Evil Laughing and Inward Retching
by pricecheckgreen
Summary: A small collection of one-shots and explorations of the Underfell AU written on a whim. Largely focusing around Papyrus and Sans, though not limited to them. Pacifist Frisk also features in many of the stories. Interprets everything as a very very dark grey.
1. Worried

Sans was in trouble.

He didn't know that for sure, but he suspected it. Making his way back to his house—or as Papyrus liked to call it, the Snowdin Royal Guard Outpost—with his hands in his pockets, back bent in a tired slouch and his one red eye gleaming as it roamed the streets, looking for possible threats or anyone else who might be breaching curfew.

The amount of random muggings and assaults that used to go on in the cold town had gone down by a drastic amount since his brother had taken over. Hostility replaced by fear, crimes moved indoors so as to avoid being caught and dusted by patrols. Still, one couldn't be too careful—could never be too careful.

It was the constant paranoia that got Sans in trouble, however. Hours at his outpost, watching for humans or threats or even his brother barreling down at him for a checkup—all of it added to his stress. His anxiety. The constant fear ran him down, broke his defenses, and invariably caused him to lapse into a troubled sleep akin to passing out. These states typically lasted a few hours, and always caused him to miss things or get beatings.

Usually he was able to slip away from his post every now and then to talk to the woman behind the door to the ruins; telling cruel or bawdy jokes to ease his stress, listen to her laugh or chuckle himself at the jokes she made. A recent practice that saved him from the blackouts.

But the woman wasn't there today. And Sans had lost hours to his sleep.

As long as he didn't let anything slip about it, it should be okay. Even though his back was shaking, and his smile wavering like crazy. Maybe Papyrus would be busy and wouldn't care much about how the day had gone.

As luck would have it, the outpost captain was scribbling something in his log book when Sans made his way inside, and he let out a sigh of relief when he didn't immediately get some attention by closing the door. Eager to get some real sleep he quietly started up the stairs to his room.

He got as far as pulling on the doorknob and getting the entrance open just a sliver when a gloved hand came out of nowhere and slammed the door shut again.

"—boss." Sans kept his voice as calm as he could make it, grin stretching wider as he looked up to see his brother's face. "it looked like you were doing a skele-ton of paperwork so I didn't want to bother you."

"VERY AMUSING SANS." Papyrus was scowling, and of course his voice was at top volume as usual, but he didn't seem particularly angry. The look was more his resting expression, and Sans thought that maybe he wasn't being attacked just yet. "THAT IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO KEEP FROM MAKING A SUMMARY REPORT OF YOUR STATION."

"noted."

"IS THAT ANOTHER PUN?" It wasn't, but Sans didn't respond, Papyrus narrowing his eyes and going to grab his smaller brother by the hood of his jacket. "I ALSO NOTICED THAT YOU WERE OUT FIVE MINUTES PAST CURFEW."

"what can i say boss, my feet tend to drag."

Papyrus dragged Sans back down the stairs, not noticing how badly he was starting to shake. Dropping him unceremoniously on the couch before going to sit across from him, pulling out a second notebook that he often used to scribble down Sans' reports. "YOU MAY BEGIN NOW, SANS."

Looking at the notebook and the pen in Papyrus' hands, Sans began to shiver harder—most of it disguised by his jacket at least, but his eye wobbling a little bit, visibly. It took a few seconds for him to speak up, desperately trying to come up with something to tell. Something believable.

"well uhhh…a whole lot of nothing for the first part. mostly just…snow, you know?" He grinned wider and laughed a little. Papyrus didn't laugh back. "uh...yeah so lots of snow and uh…i saw a bird?" Sweat trickled down the back of his skull. "that uh…that was nice? one of those…blue birds with the big talons—"

"SO YOU ARE SAYING YOU DID NOT SEE ANYTHING UNUSUAL, SANS?"

The slightest puff of relief passed through his teeth, and Sans nodded. "yeah. yeah uh…snow-thing out of the ordinary. heheh."

"AND YOU ABSOLUTELY DID NOT FALL ASLEEP AT YOUR POST AGAIN?"

That sent a shot of ice through Sans' spine, and he didn't move. Eye fixed on the expression on Papyrus' face, not changing. Not angry or smiling or anything, just his usual slight scowl. Did he know? Sans' smile drooped—just a little. Then he forced it back up, attempting to say something. "uh…" His brother continued to stare at him. "no."

"NO YOU DID OR NO YOU DID NOT?"

Another long pause. Papyrus had stopped writing in the notebook. "i…well…" He knew. He had to. Sans began to shake in earnest, his grin so wide that it threatened to break his face before the taller skeleton could get a chance. "i…might have…passed out for a…a…a few minutes?"

The silence deafened him after that. Feeling something coiling in his ribcage, everything going cold. Papyrus put down the notebook, still appearing relatively calm.

"SANS I WAS CONCERNED ABOUT YOU EARLIER TODAY."

Shit. Shit shit shit.

"I WAS WORRIED FOR YOUR HEALTH, OUT THERE NEAR THE RUINS ALL ON YOUR OWN, WHAT WITH HOW PATHETIC YOU ARE."

"hoooow considerate of you, boss."

"YES, _I_ THOUGHT SO." Papyrus stood, and without thinking Sans pushed himself further back in the couch cushions. "SO IMAGINE MY COMPLETE AND UTTER DISGUST AT SO THOUGHTFULLY DROPPING BY TO SEE YOU HARD AT WORK LIKE YOU PROMISED YOU WOULD BE, AND INSTEAD THERE YOU WERE. SLEEPING."

Sans was hoisted up by his shirt front. Sweat continuing to drip down his skull, still grinning as wide as he possibly can. No longer capable of forming words now.

"JUST LIKE THE LAZY PIECE OF SHIT YOU ARE."

There's nothing that he can say in his defense as he's shaken at each word, like a rag doll.

"AND THEN YOU HAVE THE ABSOLUTE GALL TO LIE TO ME."

Instead of being generally shaken, this time he's slammed against the wall behind the couch. No magical attacks this time. That particular kind of beating was reserved for when the two of them were outside, and there wasn't anything of actual value to break.

Sans' ribs didn't count.

One of them felt as though it was developing a crack as he was repeatedly bashed up against the wall.

"b-bo-ss—"

"HAVE THE NERVE TO LIE TO ME MORE THAN ONCE. RIGHT TO MY FACE."

After that he was thrown headfirst towards the stairs. Nothing breaking there but his entire body rattling as he fell down to the bottom step. HP not dropping one iota. With Sans' particular fragility, Papyrus had long ago learned how to hurt him without doing significant damage. Save for the first incident, which had cost him a tooth.

Upside down on the steps, he watched his brother stride towards him, and struggled to get up. Maybe even to defend himself, but his powers were frozen. As they usually were.

"boss have some mercy, i—"

"MERCY? THERE IS NO MERCY FROM THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS." Demonstrating precisely what he meant, he brought his fist down on Sans' head. "NOT FOR USELESS WASTES OF SPACE SUCH AS YOURSELF. OR ELSE YOU WILL NEVER LEARN."

The smaller skeleton was picked up once more. The smile still there on his face, wavering and biting so hard his teeth were threatening to break, and through them he was beginning to wheeze as the pain set in.

"I WANT YOU TO REMEMBER THIS, SANS."

The shrill, grating sound of his brother's shouting was enough to hurt him as it was, never mind being tossed back into the living room. A small, dull ringing was taking over his hearing, though not enough to drown it out. There was another crack in his wrist bone now, having landed on it. Upon realizing he wasn't dead yet, he started trying to crawl away, only to feel Papyrus' boot land firmly on his back. Pressing in hard enough to hurt though not break anything.

Nothing was said for a few seconds, and Sans starts to weakly paw at the carpet in a pitiful attempt to get away from the awful, painful pressure on his worn spine. It didn't help, obviously.

"g…gotta say that this le-sson isn't all it—it's cracked up to be…"

"THAT WAS PITIFUL, SANS." The boot pressed harder for a moment and Sans cried out in pain. "DO NOT JOKE AROUND WITH ME WHILE I AM PUNISHING YOU."

Another weak chuckle. Pun-ishment.

"I WANT TO KNOW THAT YOU HAVE LEARNED SOMETHING FROM THIS. SO THAT I WILL NOT BE FORCED TO DO THIS AGAIN."

"no sweat boss. lesson totally learned."

Papyrus again leaned on his back and this time Sans made an effort to smother the scream.

"SAY THAT YOU WILL NOT FALL ASLEEP AT YOUR POST AGAIN. YOU WILL NOT LIE TO ME. YOU WILL NOT LET A HUMAN GET PAST YOU."

"no hu-human showed up to—"

"SAY IT."

"i won't fall asl—"

"WILL NOT. NO CONTRACTIONS."

Sans gritted his teeth, feeling a sudden surge of hatred bubble up past the pain and fear. "fuck you."

He felt the boot heel reel back towards his leg and he howled, hearing something splinter.

"YOU ARE TESTING MY PATIENCE TO AN EXTRAORDINARY DEGREE." There was more silence, presumably as Papyrus surveyed the damage. Sans' vision had started to black out, red eye gone and seeing fuzzy spots swirling in his eyeline. "FINE. YOU ARE UNFIT FOR DUTY IN THIS STATE ANYWAY. ARE YOU NOT PLEASED? NOW YOU HAVE AN EXCUSE TO SIT ON YOUR ASS ALL DAY."

That must mean that his leg was broken. Terrific.

When a minute went by and no fresh injuries were doled out Sans slowly, painfully pushed himself up enough to glance back. Papyrus was gone.

After a few seconds thought the battered skeleton decided to spend the night lying there on the floor, face pushed into the carpet.


	2. Friends Do Favors for Friends

Papyrus was sitting on the couch in the living room, his broken legs resting in tub full of warm water, a hot pack resting on his skull, and his arms crossed over his battered chest. Rather than his usual royal guard armor he was garbed in a black and red bathrobe, scowl etched onto his features and eyes narrowed impatiently at Sans, who was carefully carrying over a coffee mug, feet shuffling on the carpet and sweat dripping down his skull.

Watching the fight between his brother and the human had almost given him a heart attack. Not the least because he hadn't known who to root for. On the one hand, deep down he did still care about his brother, if only because he was the only family he had left in his life. On the other hand, said brother clearly didn't a damn about his wellbeing beyond keeping him alive, and the kid was…at least more harmless. And then he had his promise to think about—if the arrangement he'd agreed to with the voice behind the door could be called a promise. Every turn of the battle had given him anxiety, until finally it had ended in a sort of stalemate.

Well. Stalemate was what he called it to Papyrus. The kid had clearly won. But they'd spared his brother—seemed almost upset about hurting him. And now the Terrible sentry captain was nursing his wounds in an even crabbier mood than usual. Sans' only consolation was that there was no way he could take out his anger on the smaller skeleton in the state the kid had left him in.

"SANS WILL YOU HURRY THE FUCK UP WHERE IS MY GODDAMNED COFFEE?"

"almost got it boss." He gingerly set the mug down on the table and it was immediately snatched up by Papyrus' long, thin fingers.

"FINALLY."

A long swig followed that, and Sans wearily crawled into a chair across from the couch. Outside of his brother's reach. Wincing a little when Papyrus finished drinking and raised his voice in offense.

"THIS COFFEE TASTES LIKE—"

And then a knock at the door.

Sans felt his eye go out for a moment before glancing over. They were both silent. Nobody came to visit this house. Nobody except for Undyne when she was checking up on the sentry stations, and she wasn't due for at least another week. Finally, he heard a screeching, "AREN'T YOU GOING TO ANSWER IT?"

"i'm tired you go do it yourself." At that response he received a smack from a thrown mug and leftover coffee in his face. Sighing, and hearing the knocking once more, he got back onto his aching feet and walked over. The doorknob was too high to be comfortable for him, and it just made him grouchy.

The human was standing there on the other side. His spine went rigid.

"WELL? WHO IS IT? WHO DARES DISTURB THE RECOVERY OF THE TERRIBLE PAPYRUS?" If he didn't know any better, Sans could have sworn he heard a note of trepidation in Papyrus' voice. Perhaps he also thought it might have been Undyne.

"uh..."

The human stood there, no weapon in hand, carrying a rather large plate covered in tinfoil. They looked a bit anxious to see him but smiled hesitantly and offered up the plate. The flower he'd seen with them—the wilted and scratched echo flower (?) that had been shouting directions the entire battle—was nowhere to be seen.

 _"SANS WHO IS IT?"_

"it's the—" He paused, moving so that the child could make their way inside, glancing back at Papyrus, who had also gone completely still, face blank. "…the kid. with uh…something that looks like food."

Nothing was said for a moment. There was no way Papyrus could fight in his condition but he seemed almost about to, bracing his hands on the side of the couch. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE HUMAN? DID YOU COME TO GLOAT ABOUT YOUR VICTORY? WELL YOU HAVE ONLY PLAYED INTO THE HANDS OF THE TERRIBLE—"

The child shoved their plate in the taller skeleton's face and he practically fell over, the water for his tub sloshing. Sans pulled himself back into his chair, too paralyzed by anxiety to do much at the moment.

"SAAAANS." It sounded almost like a whine. The way a younger brother should normally sound. "DO SOMETHING. THE HUMAN DID NOT BREAK _YOUR_ LEGS."

"no i think i'm just gonna sit here so they don't decide to."

The awkward silence returned, and as though attempting to declare a truce, the human unwrapped the tinfoil. Set there on the plate was a gleaming pile of cooked noodles, bright red meat sauce, and sprinkled parmesan cheese. It was still hot.

It confused the hell out of Papyrus.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT."

"spaghetti."

" _I KNOW WHAT SPAGHETTI IS."_

"I made it for you."

The two skeletons stared, surprised by the quiet voice that came out of the human's mouth. The human looked suddenly flustered at the attention and stared down at their feet. As though they were in an awkward social situation and not among murderers and tyrants.

"…To apologize?"

Papyrus looked back down at the plate of spaghetti, blinking. The bitterness gone for a moment.

Sans hadn't been close enough to hear anything that the human had said during the fight. Only Papyrus' shouting and ranting had made it to his (nonexistent) ears. Rebukes of what he assumed to be offers of friendship. Scoffing and threats.

"YOU MADE THIS FOR ME?"

A small nod followed, and Sans saw his brother push the plate away. "CLEARLY YOU POISONED IT."

A small shaking of the head.

"how does one poison a skeleton? i'm pretty sure that's impastable."

Papyrus chucked the plate at Sans' head. The human caught the plate—and all of the spaghetti and sauce fell onto their head.

The tension broke, and both brothers started raspily laughing at that. The pile of noodles looped around them almost like blonde hair, the meat sauce dripping over them like blood and lumps of flesh. The red of the tomato well suited the flush on their face as they stood there, attempting to scrape the food off their head and back onto the plate.

"NYAHAHA OH HUMAN. YOU WERE SERIOUS BACK THERE, WEREN'T YOU?" Papyrus looked positively jovial, leaning on one knee with his elbow and examining the embarrassed figure who was desperately trying to clean their hair.

After a moment they made another harried nod, and some sauce fell onto the floor. Sans knew he was going to have to clean that up later and rolled his eye.

"WELL I WILL TELL YOU WHAT. THE TERRI—" A small pause, as though he seemed to be remembering something, narrowing his eye sockets at the human. "THE _GREAT_ AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS ONLY 'MAKES FRIENDS' WITH PEOPLE WHO ARE WORTH HIS TIME. AND THAT INCLUDES DOING _MORE_ THAN FIXING UP A PLATE OF SPAGHETTI."

The human seemed to look somewhat uncomfortable at that, but after a moment the apparent eagerness to rub elbows with the cruel returned.

"SINCE I HAVE FAILED IN CAPTURING YOU—" Although Sans was sure Papyrus really intended to slaughter the child and take their soul for himself rather than give them up for a pat on the head from Undyne. "—I AM GOING TO BE IN, SHALL WE SAY, HOT WATER WITH MY SUPERIOR." Sans chuckled and his brother shot him a dirty look. "SHE IS NOT GOING TO BE PLEASED. SHE WAS VERY LOOKING FORWARD TO SHOVING SPEARS IN YOUR SOFT HUMAN FLESH."

The human trembled slightly, but nodded to indicate that they understood. Papyrus' expression seemed to grow more wicked.

"SO YOU ARE GOING TO GO KILL HER FOR ME."

* * *

While the human didn't seem to be the killing sort they did eventually leave the house with a knife that Papyrus had pressed into their hand (after a minute or so of painful wobbling into and out of the kitchen) and his phone number so that they could call him when the deed was done. There had been a lot of convincing. Some threats but more attempts at psychological manipulation. Clumsily executed ones, albeit.

Sans hadn't spoken a word the entire encounter, thinking of how much more difficult his life had gotten since the human had fallen in and how dearly he wished he was able to kill them and take their soul before someone else did.

After things had returned to relative normalcy, Papyrus munching on the ruined spaghetti from the couch, Sans spoke up, slipping off his chair and going to stand next to his brother.

"…boss have you gone crazy?"

"CRAZY LIKE A HAWK." Sans didn't bother to correct him. "IF THE HUMAN DIES TO UNDYNE, I WILL GET CREDIT FOR SENDING THEM HER WAY AND SHE WILL BE…LESS INCLINED TO TEARING MY SPINE APART. IF THE HUMAN SUCCEEDS, THEN UNDYNE IS EITHER HUMILIATED OR DEAD AND IN NO POSITION TO DO SO ANYWAY! I CAN'T LOSE! _NYAHAHA_!"

"what if undyne founds out you sent them?"

Papyrus wasn't even trying to hit Sans that time—he waved his hand dismissively and smacked his brother upside the head in the process. "I WILL ALREADY BE IN TROUBLE WITH HER FOR MY FAILURE. I DOUBT IT WILL MATTER MUCH THAT I SENT A SMALL CHILD HER WAY. DEVASTATINGLY POWERFUL AS THEY MAY BE."

They weren't powerful so much as lucky—somehow managing to dodge everything that was sent their way as though they expected it. But he didn't say that. "yeah. i guess you've got this all figured out, haven't you boss?"

"OF COURSE I DO. I AM THE TER—THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS."

"yeah." He had no heart but he could feel one hammering away against his rib cage. "they should be getting to the edge of town by now. i guess i'll head to my sentry station and…say hi."

"YES YOU DO THAT." Papyrus was no longer paying attention as his brother stepped into the kitchen and vanished completely from the house, wondering if the human might share their recipe for spaghetti if they survived Undyne. He'd always wanted to make it but no one had taught him how.


	3. Angry

Papyrus had once rationalized long ago that what he did to Sans—the beatings, the breaks and scrapes and magical smashing, was tough love. The same as what Undyne had shown him during his training. That it was out of a protective desire to toughen his brother up and straighten him out, before his shiftless and weak behavior brought him serious harm. Fragile as he was.

With his boot heel pressing into a crack he'd made on Sans' head earlier today, he once again had to admit to himself that he was really using this as a means to vent his own anger, fear, and frustration. That it wasn't really out of any good will at all.

Despite the darkness that clouded his judgment, the cruelty that pervaded his thoroughly broken heart, the notion did trouble him. It was easier to lie to himself if his lashing out in fits of stress coincided with a particularly boneheaded move on his brother's part—a smack to the skull was justified by improper behavior. Smashing his ribs was justified by failing in his duties and lying about it. Etc. Etc.

Sans had failed to properly secure the house before they'd gone to bed the night before. Upon discovering it the next morning, Papyrus had been sure to teach him not to do that again—that someone could easily come inside and murder them in their sleep for his carelessness. It was an important lesson.

This one, however, had been prompted by Sans eating the last cinnamon bunny they had in the house. And a call from Undyne that she needed Papyrus to head up to the capitol tonight.

The call had directly preceded his discovery of the bunny's ears hanging out of his brother's mouth, and, listening to muffled screams as he continued grinding Sans' skull into the carpet it was hard not to come to the conclusion that he was merely using his subordinate as a punching bag. Because Sans was the only person he knew wouldn't fight back. Either because he wouldn't or couldn't—it didn't really matter.

"b-boss—"

The voice almost shocked him to his senses but he was still puzzling over what to do. He knew it wasn't right—it felt even more wrong than everything else in this entire underground, everything about his life he'd learned to put up with. But he couldn't very well take his foot off, apologize, show weakness. It was unthinkable.

"—you're sort of giving me a _splitting_ headache."

The pun reawakened his fury and he pressed down harder. He knew his brother's limits. There was no fear, but satisfaction, when he saw the crack widen and hear another mangled scream.

" _please boss you're cracking my head open please stop please i wasn't thinking i can go get more please, you're killing me—"_

A small frown twisted his features—whatever aspects weren't kept still by the fact that he was a skeleton—and finally he took his boot off.

He could hear an audible sigh of relief at that. Small bony hands going to feel the crack. A little bit of healing magic or good food would take care of that very quickly but for now it was a bit of an eyesore.

"…I SUPPOSE YOU HAVE LEARNED YOUR LESSON." The guilt was quickly pushed down. He couldn't go soft. He couldn't. He'd come too far to start collapsing out of a little misplaced anxiety. A small silence ensued as he crossed to the kitchen to find something else to eat—something to soothe his nerves about Undyne. Only a unicicle remained, and he bitterly bit into it.

When he got back, Sans was still on the floor. It was starting to get dusky out. "…SANS STOP LYING THERE LIKE A WORM."

"what would you prefer i lie around like?"

Before he could stop himself he kicked Sans in the ribcage. The area was sensitive and he heard a barely suppressed cry of pain. Then, slowly, the smaller skeleton got up. The second he was standing it was clear how badly he was shaking, his usual smile looking plastered on and his red eye shivering so hard Papyrus imaged he must be seeing two of everything.

He didn't look that bad this morning.

"SANS I HAVE A FAVOR TO ASK OF YOU."

"oh goody." A little subordination was not unheard of after Papyrus' more…unprovoked attacks, and so he weathered it with a mere scowl.

"UNDYNE HAS ASKED ME TO HEAD UP TO THE CAPITOL TONIGHT. THIS LEAVES THE HOUSE UNGUARDED." It was the only kindness he could think to do. Nothing else would be suitable. Not for how things were between them now. They were long past that point in their relationship where Papyrus could offer hot soup or an ice pack. "RATHER THAN GOING OUT TO YOUR USUAL SENTRY POSITION, I WANT YOU TO STAY HOME."

Sans' expression barely even flickered. God damn him. Even when he was trying to do something _nice-!_

Papyrus leaned in, arms folded. "I NEED TO KNOW YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE CARE OF THIS SANS. DO YOU THINK YOU CAN HANDLE STAYING HOME INSTEAD OF SLEEPING IN YOUR GRUBBY STATION?"

After a few seconds he finally heard a slightly resigned, "…yeah. –yeah boss i can handle that."

Odds are that Sans would lie around on the couch and watch TV for most of it. But it wasn't like he'd be much of a guard in the state he was in, anyway.

"GOOD. I AM GOING TO GET PREPARED FOR THE TRIP. YOU MAY…GO PICK UP SOMETHING TO EAT FOR THE NIGHT FROM GRILLBY'S OR PERHAPS SOMETHING LESS RIDDLED WITH GREASE AND FILTH ALTHOUGH I DOUBT THAT YOU WILL DO YOURSELF THE FAVOR OF—"

Sans had already left the second he mentioned Grillby's. Ordinarily, walking out on a conversation was another big offense, but instead Papyrus just sighed and headed back to his room to make sure his armor was in perfect condition.

She hated it when it wasn't. …But then sometimes she hated it when it was. Either he wasn't attentive enough or he wasn't doing enough guard work if his armor could be so perfect. …It varied.

He left the minute he knew Sans was back inside.

* * *

Sans was awakened in the morning, paradoxically, by the sound of the TV shutting off. He'd been grumbling to himself and drinking mustard all night. He'd dozed off. Which was natural—it was normal. He'd protested that many times, what wasn't normal was only sleeping for 2 or 4 hours every other night like Papyrus did. Not that it did much good.

When he opened his eyes, sweat immediately starting to form on his skull and a few drops painfully seeping into the still healing crack, Papyrus was standing there. Arms at his sides, brow furrowed. He looked terrible. He looked like someone had mugged him both on the way to and from the capitol.

Although Sans knew better than to think that anyone would risk mugging his brother.

"h-hey boss," he started, almost feeling an odd prescience in that he knew where he was going to be hit next, "i was just—closing my eyes and practicing on my—listening—skills."

There was silence on the other end. Usually there was taunting or rage. This was almost worse.

"…uh…?"

One gloved hand lashed out to pick him up by the fabric of his jacket. Eyes trembling in what Sans thought could only be white hot fury.

And then he put Sans down again.

"…uh."

"I CAN SEE THAT NO ONE BROKE IN. I SUPPOSE THEY HEARD THE TV AND ASSUMED THAT WHOEVER WAS INSIDE WAS NOT A BLITHERING IDIOT WHO FELL ASLEEP AT THEIR POST."

It appeared to be some sort of reprieve. He would question it but despite what his brother always said, Sans wasn't an idiot.

"…uh…yeah that must be it. good thing i had that thing running then."

Papyrus seemed to stare at Sans as though he couldn't believe what was coming out of his mouth. Which was odd, because it wasn't exactly like he'd declared he was a two headed froggit or anything.

"I AM…" His words seemed to falter. Like he was about to throw up or something. Sans felt himself grow even more nervous. Something felt very….off. "I THINK I AM…"

"you think you might be losing your touch and want me to take over your position of authority?"

This time the hand went down to his neck and he was lifted by that. A strangled gasp the only thing that wheezed past his teeth.

And then he was set down again. This was starting to freak him out.

"boss are you sick or something?"

"…I AM GOING TO THE KITCHEN. …THERE WILL LIKELY BE A MESS IN THERE WHEN I GET OUT. YOU ARE GOING TO CLEAN IT UP."

There was silence as the words sunk in. Finally all of the anxiety started to slowly morph into calm confusion.

"…sure. you want me to hold down the fort while you're…doing whatever it is you're gonna do in th—"

"COOKING, SANS." Then Papyrus looked phenomenally irritated, and the smaller skeleton flinched again. "COOKING IS WHAT YOU DO IN A KITCHEN."

"okay okay _geez_."

And with that his brother disappeared inside the room, slamming the door shut. Not answering the question. Thoroughly wigged out at this point, Sans crawled back onto the couch and waited until he passed out.

Papyrus woke him with a boot to the shins the next morning.


	4. Misery

Undyne hated Papyrus.

Not through any real fault of his own, which only made it all the more unfair whenever she singled him out in guard lineups for inconsequential features of his armor, or speaking up too enthusiastically when she asked him for his report.

Even through all the brutal training she'd given him the feelings persisted.

The first day he had arrived at her doorstep, demanding to be made a member of the royal guard, she'd thrown a chair at him. Because it was the middle of the night.

The next morning he'd still been there, a small crack over his eye but nonetheless standing and eager to join. The eagerness had reminded her of someone.

Training for the guard was always a rough process, it didn't matter who was involved. But his enthusiasm and zeal had been harder to stamp out than even the dogs. She chewed on that some mornings, wondering where he had gotten it from. An idealist in the underground was incredibly rare. She'd met his brother—he didn't seem the type to foster that attitude. And as far as she knew there were no parents in his upbringing to fill that gap either.

Not that his outlook had remained intact long under her tutelage.

It had been almost sad the way he'd staggered, still determined to fight, after their first bout of training. She'd broken his leg and a rib, and deftly lengthened the crack that she'd made earlier over his eye. Undyne herself was scratched and feeling a little dented—he'd been much stronger than she'd anticipated—but was still in good fighting form, and had not let up on her attack.

After a certain point even he had to give up, and he told her that he was sorry to disappoint her but he couldn't handle any more training that day.

Nonsense. A human wouldn't give in. A human wouldn't show mercy. She'd had that drilled into her head many times.

Even as he'd begun to beg she didn't let up, breaking and beating until Papyrus was no longer conscious enough to appreciate her brutality. She'd left him to a healer and waited for him to resign the next day.

He did not.

For some reason she couldn't fathom that had infuriated her.

After several battle sessions like that she had to come to the conclusion that deliberately ejecting him from the ranks out of spite was not an option. Though he still needed refinement in his skills, Papyrus was extraordinarily gifted in battle. She couldn't afford to pass up a guardsman that strong. So instead of trying to break his will to fight she broke his will to hold back.

It had been something to behold. And it only made her hate him more.

When everything had finally been done—when he'd finally been assigned his armor and returned to Snowdin to head the sentry station far away where she wouldn't have to see him often—she couldn't say she was proud of herself. She never felt any sense of pride in anything she did anymore. But she did feel as though she'd accomplished something. And every so often when she came to visit she caught him utilizing the techniques in capital punishment that she'd taught him on his brother. And it almost made her crack a smile. Almost. The hatred almost went away.

Then he'd do something stupid like suggest she set some of the dog sentries in protective stations near Snowdin rather than offensive ones around the ruins and it would rear its ugly head again.

To be honest, before she'd broken him and on rare occasions afterwards, he had reminded Undyne of herself as a young guardsman, before she'd begun her training with Asgore to become captain. It wasn't that hard a comparison to make—the eagerness to remain despite the odds, to correct injustice, to become a hero respected by the people. To make friends.

Seeing it had brought back painful memories that resurfaced like bile in her throat. That's why any and all enthusiasm he showed had to be stamped and beaten out whenever possible. Ground into the mud under the heel of her boot if need be. There was no room for such people in the Royal Guard. That was something she knew well.

Occasionally it hurt to do. But that was the role she had been assigned as Captain. Using her own frustrations and anger to fuel the fire only made it easier.

Whenever he stood before her now his attitude was blacker as though stained with ink but she could still feel some light shining through. And that was intolerable.

So the misery continued.


	5. Terrors

Sans didn't remember where the anxiety had come from.

It hadn't come from Papyrus. It had persisted as a sickness of his mind even before their relationship went south.

It hadn't come from the other monsters. If he weren't paralyzed from the start he could have easily wiped out anyone who tried to fight him. Even as it was the smaller creatures knew to run from him, particularly when he was in a more irritable mood. He didn't need magical attacks to punt a moldsmal across town, after all, and often found himself doing so when he was bored.

There was an emptiness somewhere inside his childhood. A period where no memories existed. His feet crossing across a sparkling tiled floor where another's hand tightly gripping his own. And then a massive dark gap ending in his sprinting across that same floor, his baby brother clutched in a death grip to keep him from falling behind.

And the anxiety had been with him ever since.

He had found in his pockets scribbled notes and poorly drawn pictures. Nothing he could understand—written in letters he didn't know. Depicting people he didn't recognize. A few hastily scrawled words were on the image—"DON'T FORGET". Evidently that had been too tall an order.

Once, before his brother had started his training with Undyne, Sans had asked Papyrus if he could recognize any of it. All he'd gotten for the question was a troubled stare and a denial. He hadn't asked again. With the way things were now it was impossible to.

But keeping quiet and shoving the papers in a drawer in the shed didn't stop the nightmares from coming.

 _And in them WD Gaster would smile at his subjects with gleaming red dripping from his thin, skeletal fingers._

 _And he would pace back and forth on the lab floor speaking to himself in his halting, sharp and impossible letters._

 _And he would take Sans by the shirt front and drag him into the firing range for testing._

 _And he would crack open Sans' arm amidst howls of pain so he could inject directly into the bone marrow._

 _And Sans could do nothing but shake behind thick cell bars and clutch his brother's hand._

 _And Gaster would start to measure the growing Papyrus with marked tape and count the days he could start experimenting on him._

 _And one day Gaster had taken the younger brother out and broken his bones and slotted the needle in and P. a. p. y. r. u. s. h. a. d. p. u. s. h. e. d. G. a. s. t. e. r ..._

And Sans would wake up wheezing and terrified in the middle of the night and have no recollection of why.


	6. Friends Don't Leave Friends

Frisk stood between the shadow of two pillars in the judgment hall, staring at the dark figure who had appeared so suddenly as they were walking. Had he been standing there before?

There were so many enemies in the underground. So many surprise threats, so many deaths, that there was nothing but the sound of their breath hitching and the stalling of footsteps. But then he took a step into the light, and suddenly the child knew they were looking at Sans. Something approaching a smile hesitantly made its way on their face.

"heya. you've been busy, huh?" His voice was unusually soft, and his demeanor far calmer than it had ever been. Frisk took a couple of steps forward, and he didn't shrink back as was usual for him. Just continued to speak. "i wasn't sure what to make of you at first. i thought, 'this kid can't be for real', right? all the mercy, all the love and acceptance for people who don't deserve it. they're gonna get killed. they're gonna see how stupid they're bein and kill someone else."

Sans' voice seemed to choke up for a moment and he stopped—his one eye waveringly looking over Frisk with a manner that looked almost affectionate. Though the child still remembered the last threat he'd made—the half-hearted declaration of how close he'd come to taking their soul for himself—there was none of his earlier hostility left.

After what felt like a minute his voice started up again, "but you didn't. you kept that tenderness about you. even as you were surrounded by enemies you never wavered from that dedication to good." He shrugged. "you changed people."

There was another pause, as though his next words were particularly difficult.

"and it might not sound so stupid to you—sounds stupid as hell to me—but i was…i actually started to think we could be…friends."

The faint, uncertain smile on Frisk's face grew wider, and Sans' own began to grow a little bit. Slowly he seemed to relax, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the single red eye was gone, and in its place he had two dim white pupils in his sockets.

"i almost feel like…you make everything safe?" His gold tooth gleamed as he grinned more earnestly. "like with you around this big bad underground isn't such a hostile place for me, you know? i never believed that even the worst person could change—that they could be better if they just tried. …but you seem to bring that out in people. …you bring that out in _me_."

There were no words for the joy on the child's face. It wasn't unexpected—this is the opposite of what he'd been trying to do the entire run. To break them down and demotivate them. They took another step towards Sans, as though intending to hug him, and his smile grew somewhat…strained.

"but i got a question for ya."

The impending hug stopped.

"why leave?"

The smile on Frisks' face started to slip away.

"you don't have to face asgore. he's beyond help, he'll only make you suffer. you don't have to put yourself through that." He spared a glance to his shoes. "you don't have to leave us all behind if you somehow do make it past him. you can…you can stay here with us, you know?" Sans grinned a bit hopefully, starting to sweat again. "you can stay with all your friends, and you can have a good time. so…why leave?"

It was the sort of question that Frisk had received long, long ago back when they'd first tried to leave the Ruins. Of course, there, it had come directly after almost being killed in their sleep, so refusing hadn't seemed as daunting, then.

It was true that despite the suffering that had come at the hands of the monsters, a soft spot had come into their heart for all of them. They were cruel. But they were also broken. And a strong desire had surfaced to mend their wounds. Bring them to the sunshine.

But Frisk had made promises. To friends on the surface that they would see each other again. To Flowey, down here, that Asgore would be saved. And though neither of those people were here to see right now if Frisk had broken their trust, it was something the child could not do.

They shook their head at Sans.

And Sans sighed.

"yeah. …that's what i thought. kids like you…won't be satisfied until you've saved everyone. …and now you're going to leave."

He took a step forward, expression hardening and his single, red eye returned.

"…it's a beautiful day outside."

A cold chill traveled down Frisk's spine. Sans saw the fear, and sighed again.

"birds are singing…flowers are blooming…"

There was confusion, of course. But them underneath it a cold certainty. He didn't know how he felt about seeing it. Of being so predictable. Had he made this speech before?"

"on days like today…guys like me should probably be in hell."

There was no warning for the child of what was coming, and they didn't try to dodge, so this must really be the first time. Power flowed through him like a broken dam, and an array of sharpened bones easily slicedthrough Frisks' fragile skin and sweater. Blood poured from their wounds like tiny rivers, speared through and pinned to the ground. Choking.

Sans cleared his throat, walking over and awkwardly patting the child on the head even as he saw fat tears dripping from their eyes.

"if you and i are really friends? you won't come back."

Without giving any time to respond—not that he felt a response was forthcoming-he finished them with a Gaster Blaster.


	7. Friends Trust in Friends

It seemed no matter how many times someone tried to take MERCY off the table, the stalwart child who had befriended a kingdom of murderers and psychopaths could find it again.

Even if the human had to break the other person's ability to FIGHT before it would finally stick.

The smell of rotting golden flowers in the throne room had been overpowering and nauseous both times that Frisk and Flowey had made their way inside. But now they only smelled cinnamon and butterscotch, standing before a defeated king with little more than a few burns on their arm.

It would be easy to kill Asgore right now.

So Frisk did not.

"…What are you doing?"

The browning, wilted Flowey sprang up from the dirt behind Frisk, voice small but surprisingly indignant for someone who so often had tremors in it.

"Showing mercy."

Frisk was quiet too, hand still on Asgore's cheek. His eyes were currently vacant—no one home. Just his slow, ragged breathing to assure them that he still lived. They'd barely fought, and there weren't enough sedatives in the pie to put out a grown boss monster like himself—the child suspected that he'd been detached and broken like a toy that had been used incorrectly for quite some time now.

"After everything that he's done?"

His black, scraggly beard was actually rather soft, and they sifted fingers through the curls. "Weren't you the one who asked me to save him?"

"I was _lying_. I didn't think you'd actually _do it_. I just knew that if you got in here, if you saw what he was like…" His voice trailed off, as it had a tendency to do. Frisk sighed and shrugged.

"I like the idea all the same."

"After everything he did to the underground?" Flowey's voice rose in pitch. "Frisk, he's the reason that everyone is like this! He's the reason everyone is so cruel and unhappy! He's the one to blame! If we were ever gonna remove anyone, it'd be him!"

"I thought if we were going to blame anyone it would be you."

Silence. Something in Asgore's dark eyes flickered, but ultimately he remained silent and still.

"But we don't blame you, do we? …So why should we blame anyone else?"

"It's not like I wanted to die." The tone in their friend's voice was dark and mournful. "I made a stupid decision but I never wanted to hurt anyone. Not like Chara. Not like mom and dad and everybody else."

"I never wanted to hurt anyone either. But somehow I always end up needing to. People make their choices. We can choose to let cruelty warp us or we can choose to be strong and remain true to ourselves." Frisk finally turned to face him. A placid smile on their face. "Everyone here has been choosing wrong, but that doesn't mean we have to."

There was an expression on Flowey's face that he'd never shown before. Something brokenly confused.

"Do you think after everything that he's learned something from all this? After all the children he's killed? Had people kill? That if you let him go they'll all change?" When no response immediately came back, the flower scowled. "I don't understand what you think you're doing. People don't just—they don't' just—"

The child remembered how kind he had seemed when they'd first met. The joy that had followed them kneecapping Papyrus and the stammered inquiry as to why they hadn't finished him off. The blank expression at hearing about how well things had gone with Undyne. The scowls exchanged with Dr. Alphys.

"…I just don't understand."

In their mind's eye they saw again the lab where Flowey had been born.

"How are you….so nice?"

It was hard to imagine exactly what that had been like. Perhaps he had screamed and cried alone, fresh from the memories of being slaughtered. Perhaps he had done nothing, at first thinking himself to be a simple flower.

"I always thought humans were…cruel…you were so strong that I thought you would…would be the one to…"

His face appeared cracked now—the façade of a meek, tender-hearted child that he had once been finally broken. Underneath was something raw and injured.

"But you never will, will you?"

"No."

"I just…can't understand."

His vines slowly curled around the capsules that held six lost souls. A weak grip. Frisk slowly knelt by him, remembering what he had done with those hearts the first time they'd walked into this throne room together, and placed a gentle hand on his petals.

"Flowey, I want to help you understand."

The prospect seemed to only depress him further, the cracked grimace growing wider until it split the face of the flower. "I don't think you can."

"Not alive, I can't."

The jagged lips pursed.

Frisk stood and took one of his vines, carefully unwinding it from where it rested over the green soul, and placed the very tip on the center of their chest. When they kneeled down in front of Flowey, his eyes were large black holes. The child could swear they saw their reflection in there, two little white pinpricks.

"You're going to kill me, take my soul—take all of these souls—and be a god."

There was silence. Only Asgore's raspy, ragged breathing from behind the both of them could be heard. He seemed on the verge of saying something but only the faintest trickle of blood made it past his lips.

Eventually, Flowey smiled. Fresh vines sprung from the earth, coated in thorns, and wrapped around Frisk's body—legs, chest, arms. The child was immobilized as the flower then started to pull Asgore's trident up to bear. They didn't struggle.

"With your power you can be Asriel again."

The comment caused the slightest of hesitation—the slightest freeze in the widening grin as Flowey prepared.

With a voice that sounded like a small child he whispered, "I am very, very tired of being a little flower."

"After that—I know you'll do what's best."

The thorns had started to cut into Frisk's arm as Flowey began squeezing again, but the smile never wavered. It wasn't any worse than Toriel, slicing them to ribbons in their sleep. Papyrus burning them to cinders after caging them in with an array of bones. Undyne spearing them right through the heart not just once but many times. Mettaton flaying them on live television. Alphys shoving them into the maw of a ravenous amalgamate. Sans in the judgment hall, giving up on the magic attacks after a while and just attempting to crush their windpipe.

The repeated agony of being killed over and over again, not knowing if there was really hope waiting at the end of all the suffering. Just having to believe that there would be.

Flowey was quick, and Frisk never felt their body being torn apart.

* * *

 **Author Note** : At some point if I ever feel this collection is complete, I'll probably rearrange them into some semblance of chronological order (perhaps with a little bit of revision). If so, this would definitely be the last one.

shadowcat500: I actually wasn't planning on making a chapter like that, but the comment sparked an idea. Who knows if I'll get that one finished or not, or if it'll be any good if it is, but thank you for the suggestion all the same!


	8. Friends Take Tea With Friends

Undyne watched as her house slowly burned into a heap of smoldering slag and thought on her sins.

The child that she had been attempting to skewer not a few hours ago stood by her side, appearing entranced by the flames. Their hair was a bit of a mess from the fight they had just had, a few small burns on their fingers. A cup of golden flower tea was still clutched in their hand.

She'd been expecting a fighter. Someone capable of destroying every monster in their path if it came to it. Someone worthy of years of training and honing her killer instincts. Someone who wouldn't just dodge and block every attack that came their way.

At first it had been infuriating. Cowardly—that's what Undyne had roared as she tried to break the human in two. After everything they and their kind had done, acting like a goody-two shoes now? After everything they kept her and her people from?

Idealists were rare in the underground. Undyne knew that well.

But the human had led her into a trap with Hotland. That look of planned certainty on their face when Undyne had collapsed, the heat collecting in her armor—that had made her back run cold, despite the pain and exhaustion. And then they'd left her a taunting little cup of water. Death didn't come for her.

The human drank a bit more of the tea and offered it to the warrior, who declined. The scent of golden flowers only made her sick.

Standing there now Undyne wondered if she herself had ever really hurt someone for their own good. She thought about the time she'd broken Papyrus' hand into several pieces, kept from scattering everywhere only by his glove. Or the time she'd cracked in Sans' ribcage with a single kick. And then there was Alphys—who she had never laid a hand on physically but with the look of hurt in that yellow idiot's eyes when Undyne had smashed her anime collection, she might as well have.

There were countless other cases. Children she'd whipped for going places they shouldn't. Criminals she'd executed. None of it had felt like it was doing any good. None of it had felt like the right choice. But it was what she'd been taught to do.

She thought on the look of pure joy in the human's eyes when the fight had finally gone out of her.

And then she began to laugh.

Undyne hadn't laughed in years. The sensation was strange, tugging on her jaw in ways she was not used to. She was laughing so hard she had to close her eye, felt momentarily blind, and braced a hand on her stomach to keep it from hurting too much. The sound…well, to her the sound of laughter had always seemed a little bit like sobbing.

Eventually she stopped, glancing over at the child. Their head was tilted quizzically at her, though they said nothing.

"…It's just funny." Undyne chortled a little bit more, turning her head back to the fiery mess she used to live in. "All that training—everything I've done. Everything I had done to me. Preparing for the 'vicious, unrepentant killers' that we all believed humans to be. …And now here you are. The least cruel person in the entire underground."

There was nothing for a little bit but the roar of the fire and snorting giggles.

Eventually she head from beside her a quiet, "You look really nice when you smile."

To that there was no reply.

Eventually the cheer stopped, and Undyne sighed, turning away from the house. "I guess I'll bunk with Papyrus for a bit. Make sure he doesn't plot to have me killed again." She spared a glance back at her would-be assassin. "Although he couldn't have been that serious about it if he ended up sending _you_. Bastard's gotta do it himself next time."

"Are you going to hurt him?"

The question took the captain off guard, and she didn't speak for a minute. Of course she was going to hurt him—nothing permanent, and hell, she wasn't even in the mood for proper disciplinary measures—but leaving his actions unpunished would be a very costly mistake. Especially with how ambitious he's been getting lately.

But why did the human care?

"Yes."

"Please don't."

Another surprise. Although she supposed it shouldn't be. The human sipped more of the tea, Asgore's tea. The kind she had to have in her house at all times in case he should drop by.

"Why not?"

"Because that's why he hates you."

Undyne couldn't describe the emotions that swirled in her chest when she saw the downtrodden look on the human's face. Something that hadn't appeared even when they were on the brink of collapse in a fight. Why, why? Why did it matter? So he hated his superior officer. So what?

And yet she knew it did matter.

"You have a long road ahead of you, kid." Sighing, Undyne learned down to tousle the child's hair. It felt soft and warm. "Alphys will be waiting for you in Hotland. I don't know what she'd be planning—she never tells me. And after that…Asgore. …He despises your kind more than words can express."

There was a knowing look at that. It was common knowledge in the underground by now. Someone else must have let the child know.

"To be in this place—to be against people like me…and to never falter. …You are a stronger warrior than I." A crushing sadness rooted itself in Undyne's heart at the admission. Her shoulders slackening just an inch.

Something was pushed into her hand, and Undyne snorted again. A teacup. The human had finished, and it no longer smelled of golden flowers.

As they walked away the captain braced herself, and smashed the cup to pieces in her palm.


	9. Stress

Sans hadn't been at his post when he should have been. Again.

It hadn't seemed like a problem at the time. Largely because the human had already fallen down—moreover Papyrus had actually _made friends_ with said human. The child had been calling more and more, especially now that Undyne had joined their little group. Sans personally suspected the kid was calling more to make sure there were no fights breaking out at the post while they traversed Hotland. Especially considering the stupid shark had burned her own house down and was rooming with them now.

So yeah, he'd shirked his chores. Zipped over to the MTT Resort and had dinner with the human before they headed up to Mettaton. He hadn't actually stuck around long enough to eat anything—halfway through their conversation he'd felt a sudden, inescapable bitterness that ruined any appetite he'd have—and left to go kick around Waterfall for a bit.

The second he'd gotten back though, Papyrus had punched him in the face.

Apparently, now that they had the captain of the guard living under their roof, it was important to do twice as much work as they were doing before, which apparently in Sans' case meant patrolling for no reason whatsoever.

He'd argued. Generally that wasn't what he did. Not unless it was a minor thing. Papyrus took some things very, very seriously, and in cases of failing his "responsibilities" arguing only ever prolonged the ensuing punishment so that the "lesson" could get etched into his bones where he wouldn't forget it.

The uncontrollable shaking that usually sprang into his shoulders and back when Sans knew that pain was oncoming didn't arrive.

"i think it's a load of horse shit that i have to keep that up even though _we literally already caught the human. and then you went and let them go."_

"THAT DOESN'T MEAN THERE IS NOBODY TO KEEP AN EYE OUT FOR!" The reminder of his failure to keep the child in their grasp didn't seem to infuriate Papyrus like Sans thought it would—the expression that came up before his snarl returned was more akin to something a kicked puppy would make.

"WHAT'S GOTTEN INTO YOU? I USED TO BE ABLE TO RELY ON YOU TO AT LEAST _SIT AT YOUR POST_ , EVEN IF YOU FELL ASLEEP THERE! EVER SINCE THE HUMAN ARRIVED YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT GO GALLAVANTING ALL OVER THE UNDERGROUND WITH THEM!"

" _it's not like it means anything to be there anymore._ "

"SANS—"

Sans felt his eyes flickering.

Papyrus had moved to hit him—as he usually did, as he _always_ did.

The human sprang to mind. Weaving deftly in and around his brother's expertly crafted magical attacks. That sick, satisfying crunch that their club had made when it snapped Papyrus' fibula for one leg. His kneecap for the other.

Papyrus the Great and Terrible had lost to a small child.

Without even really trying to, he'd thrown his brother across the room. There was a flash of hot red and suddenly that was the only color he was able to see, feeling something burbling up inside of him as though a dam had burst.

As he heard the first cry of pain—something that sounded familiar to him and yet he couldn't remember ever hearing it before—Sans chuckled. Something rough and deep that couldn't even be called a real laugh. Papyrus sat there against the far wall where he'd hit. Too confused to get up, to react properly.

"…SANS—"

There wasn't supposed to be any magic fighting in the house, but that didn't stop him from bringing a wall of bones down on Papyrus' head. The floor splintered somewhat but held, while the figure sitting above it clutched at his head, dazed and confused. HP dripping out of him like blood.

Oh yeah.

Papyrus had never taught Sans anything about fighting—in fact, before his guard training it had been the other way around. So he didn't know exactly how to inflict pain without causing health damage. Not like his brother could. But luckily for him, said brother had a much, much larger supply of it than he did. He wasn't fragile.

Sans snapped his fingers, his raspy giggling accompanying howls as he conjured broken and jagged bones and cracked Papyrus' battle armor. He figured some ribs had to be broken. Maybe he'd snap one off and see what the inside of the bone looked like.

Although the thought made him somewhat queasy and he suspected he somehow already knew.

Shaking off the thought, and feeling rather bold, he strode up as his brother was trying to stand and placed his sneaker on the lanky bastard's head. The way he'd seen Undyne do once.

" **hey bro."**

Papyrus coughed. He seemed to be in some state of shock, or maybe he was unaccustomed to being in this much pain.

"what would happen if you tried to get up right now, do you think?" He increased the pressure on his foot, leaning over his knee like Papyrus tended to do when stomping on his back. "that sounds pretty damn funny. go on. i dare you."

The taller skeleton didn't move. Now, unless he had a previous injury, Sans' head didn't hurt too bad when someone stepped on it. His facial structure was relatively solid, nothing to snap or twist. By contrast, Papyrus' hinged jaw and more rectangular shape meant that there were a million things that could go wrong when being smashed against a hard wood floor. Not to mention the crack across his eye that Undyne had put there long ago. Sans' gold tooth flashed as his smile grew wider and he put all of his body weight on that one foot.

 **"try to get up.** "

Papyrus did respond this time, long arms and legs flailing somewhat as he attempted to push himself up. It wasn't nearly as funny as Sans had thought it would be but he laughed anyway, hearing something that sounded like an attempt at words from his brother's crushed mouth.

Sans shrugged, bringing down another wave of bones and jumping back as they connected. The taller skeleton was able to bring his head up just enough to scream as he received several hairline fractures all along his body—death of a thousand papercuts, as it were.

Even if it didn't really kill him.

Not yet satisfied, he conjured an attack that he could use as a club. Paralyzed as his magic tended to be it was easier to use brute force. That was something the anxiety couldn't take from him. With his low HP it wasn't a great strategy, overall, but it helped to vent his frustrations every now and again. He figured having a magic weapon to use this time might make things a bit more interesting.

Sans strode over and pressed his shoe against the taller skeleton's forehead, lifting it a little. He wanted to see him beg before he broke his limbs. Beg like Sans had begged on every occasion imaginable. Just for a minute. Just one memory that he could hold in his mind the next time he was powerless.

"papyrus."

Expecting anger, or even possibly fear, by the time Papyrus finally looked up at him, Sans was gobsmacked when he instead saw jubilation.

Coughing and cracked, he wailed, " _YOU HAVE BEEN HOLDING OUT ON ME."_

Sans was quiet for a long time, sweat starting to pour down his skull again. Magic draining away and his club dissipating at even the smallest indication that things weren't going how they were supposed to. "…what?"

Papyrus vainly struggled to stand, too injured to really do so for a while before hoisting himself up by grabbing at the TV. "WHY HAVE YOU NEVER DEMONSTRATED THIS BEFORE!? WAS I NOT BEATING YOU AROUND HARD ENOUGH?"

Suddenly feeling very small for reasons he couldn't fathom, Sans took a few steps back, shoving his hands back in his pockets where they belonged. "i don't uh…i don't get what you're sayin boss—i mean-bro."

Papyrus made a gesture that was as close to rolling his eyes as a skeleton could get. "ARE YOU PLAYING STUPID BROTHER OR ARE YOU REALLY THAT OBLIVIOUS TO THE FACT THAT YOU JUST _PULVERIZED_ ME?"

Sans scowled, baring his teeth a bit more. "no no, i got that part. i was enjoying that part. but now you're getting all…weird about it. aren't you mad? _or even the slightest bit upset?_ "

"OH SANS," Papyrus laughed, getting that vaguely affectionate look again for a microsecond and holding his jaw—there was a crack on the side of the joint that had likely come from being smashed up against the floor. "IF I WASN'T TOO HURT TO PROPERLY STAND RIGHT NOW I WOULD CRACK YOUR RIBCAGE OPEN AND STOMP ON YOUR SPINE."

"oh." A slow blink. Sans relaxed only slightly. That was more the attitude that he was used to. "so why are you acting like i just got you a christmas present?"

"BECAUSE ALL THIS TIME I THOUGHT YOU WERE A _SPINELESS WEAK SACK OF SHIT THAT'S WHY!"_ His brother struggled with the TV set a little—inching his way closer to Sans. The smaller skeleton responded in kind by taking a step backwards. "AND NOW I FIND THAT YOU CAN NOT ONLY FIGHT BUT YOU FIGHT _WELL_? WHY THE HELL HAVEN'T YOU DONE SO UNTIL NOW?"

Sans had no idea where the power had come from. Or to be more accurate—he'd known all along that all the magic attacks were within his range of abilities. He just didn't know how to turn off the choking anxiety that kept him from using them. "…i didn't want to hurt ya?"

"DO NOT LIE TO ME, BROTHER."

It wasn't a lie. It obviously wasn't the whole truth either. "what do you want from me?" Sans threw his hands up a little, going to shove a chair Papyrus' way so he didn't have to see the way his brother's form shook as he tried to stand. The stubborn nut refused to sit in it. "i mean geez if i knew how to turn my powers on and off you think i'd put up with all the shit that everybody gives me? i can't normally do anything, okay?"

"BUT _WHY?"_

" _maybe because you keep putting all this goddamn pressure on me_!" He had no idea where that came from and almost took it back. But after a single moment's thought he knew it was true, and pushed past the embarrassment. "i can barely think half the time the way you shout and hit and _all the other_ crap that you put me through. i sit in my station and i'm terrified out of my mind that you or someone else is going to come along and slice me to ribbons. i can't _focus._ _ **ever.**_ it's like—like if you're tryin to take a test and you're in a classroom filled with people shouting at you and then the teacher gets surprised that you _can't fucking write anything._ "

Already regretting the outburst, and deciding to just stop right there before he went into the tangled issue of resetting, Sans could hear the echo of his words shortly after saying them.

It was a pipe dream to think that Papyrus would respond to that in any meaningful way. He wasn't even expecting an apology. Just a simple acknowledgment that it was true—that it wasn't Sans' fault after all. That he wasn't a lazy, hopeless screwup and it was just that the world they lived in was too messed up. Messed up even worse than anybody knew. Only Sans knew.

Instead of an acknowledgment—hell the tirade sounded more and more like an excuse than an explanation the more Sans thought about it—his brother said, "…SO IF THAT IS TRUE, THEN…WHY ARE YOU ABLE TO FIGHT _NOW_?"

"i don't know. i guess i'm not as stressed? i don't know." He thought about the human. The surge of sudden bitterness returned. "i guess i was having fun before i came over here? or…something like that." Fun that had been interrupted by the thought that it would end soon. He didn't have much time to ruminate on the idea.

"YES, WELL…" They didn't really do the whole "sharing your feelings" thing well. Not since they'd started using each other as punching bags, although to be fair to Sans _he'd_ never broken anything of Papyrus' up until now. Not since they were kids, anyway. It was almost a relief when he spoke up again to save them from the awful silence. "DON'T THINK THAT YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH THAT A SECOND TIME. I WAS ONLY SO EASILY TROUNCED BECAUSE YOU CAUGHT ME OFF GUARD."

"oh no. oh no it's different now." It wasn't, really, because the negative thoughts were beginning to overtake him once more. But he was getting a bit better at hiding it. " **you try to sock me again and i'll beat the shit out of you, paps**."

Sans had no idea if he'd be as able or willing to do it again, but the threat stuck, and for that he felt supremely grateful. There was an approximation of real fear in Papyrus' eyes for just a moment, before he'd managed to hide it again. Seeing it brought a smirk to Sans' face.

This was new. Despite everything, this was rather pleasant.

He dearly hoped it wasn't the quadrillionth time this scenario had happened.

"but aside from that we shouldn't have any problems, _boss."_


	10. Friends Make Friends Laugh

You would think that after seeing him around so often in the underground, the human child would get used to seeing Sans pop up out of nowhere to say hi or pick on them, as he was wont to do. Evidently, by the way they'd jumped and stumbled back when he announced his presence, that was not the case.

"i'm on break." It's a lie. Papyrus would probably break his wrist if he knew he was both slacking off and telling lies to the human. "wanna hang out?"

It wasn't really a question so much as a demand. He'd been watching them this entire time, really—following ever since Snowdin, not just randomly running into them at places. But they didn't need to know that. They didn't need to know why. Before they could respond, he went to grab their hand, roughly pulling the human away from some other monsters that had started to loiter nearby. An action that clearly made them very nervous but in reality was simply because the other monsters put him on edge. And he found he preferred not to be on edge around the human.

When they were sufficiently isolated—that stupid flower nowhere to be seen, which was a relief—he let go and tried to look relaxed. It wasn't an easy look to pull off.

"hey there. miss me?"

The human had that same expression on their face that the local children in Snowdin usually did at the sight of him—like they expected him to steal their lunch money or something. Feeling vaguely uncomfortable seeing that look on that particular face, he rolled his shoulders and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "—been meaning to ask you about something, actually."

Now he could see mild interest, and it was much better. The tension actually started to slip out of his back.

"you got entrails in there?" Sans had thought it was an innocuous question, looking over their midsection and pointing at their belly. Skeletons didn't have anything in their ribs—it was only natural to be curious about how the situation was for humans, who as far as he knew had the actual structure of a skeleton somewhere inside them.

The way the human reacted he might as well have said, "i'm going to pull out your small intestine would you care to watch?"

"jeez, what's what look? just curious. never seen a human's insides before."

"…You say that like you're going to."

The quiet voice makes him sneer to cover up his surprise, and he takes a step forward. "you say like you can stop me. i'll put 'em right back, i promise."

It was a joke but he really couldn't blame them for thinking he was serious.

"—Stay away."

That sounded almost like a challenge. Sans' permanent grin grew particularly nasty and he took a step forward, taking his hands out of his pockets. "come on, just one look."

"No—"

As he reached his hand under the sweater as though to feel for a rib cage, maybe see if he could pull anything out, the child made an odd shrieking sound and pulled towards the wall, slapping him away. The sound wasn't from pain—he knew that particular scream too well to mistake it for anything else. This other one sounded—it seemed almost like-

"what the hell?" He peered over the human quizzically as they started to squirm, face going beet red. "why did you laugh?"

They shook their head, averting their eyes. Scowling, he poked their side. No laugh—just a sharp intake of breath and shuffling away.

"come on kid, don't hold out. you got a laugh button on ya?" They again shook their head, dark hair flipping around their face, and he grinned. "i think that means yes."

More desperate refusal.

"lemme see…" He leaned in again, hands twitching, and suddenly leaped upon the child, pinning them down and lifting up their sweater enough to see their stomach. For a brief flash he considered actually tearing out their inner organs but figured that'd be pretty messed up to do to a kid that had pointedly refused over and over again to kill anybody. And then they might not be so friendly with him the next time around. "'s gotta be around here somewhere."

Sans scrabbled his hands over their stomach and their terrified blubbering became laughter. Evoking it was actually pretty easy to get the hang of—there wasn't one particular spot that he had to jab at, but rather moving his bony fingers across several areas at once. He was sure it had something to do with the skin—maybe he'd ask someone who wasn't a skeleton about it later. See if it was human exclusive.

"—S-ans—don't-!" The splitting grin looked unfamiliar on the human's face—the whole time he's known them, which admittedly wasn't long, they had only worn two expressions. Terror, and that bizarre, placid smile that said they knew everything, understood everything, and forgave everything. Honestly, this smile was much more pleasant, in his opinion. It felt raw. Unpracticed "—S-stop!"

"' _don't stop_ ' _?_ " His teeth glinted as he started moving his hands around a bit more—the belly was sensitive but he founds the sides were good too. He could feel ribs there under the skin. "well kid if you insist."

Sans found himself actually enjoying their peals of laughter, starting to get in a few chuckles himself. It was clean and innocent and spontaneous and he'd never heard anything like it. Maybe that's just what it sounded like when the person laughing was a child. Children never laughed down here—he wouldn't know how to recognize it.

 _Why had he ever wasted time on dumb jokes when he could get them to laugh so easily this way?_

After a little while his arms were starting to get tired but he couldn't stop, he didn't know how. He'd never really enjoyed himself before. It just wasn't something that happened. The harsh satisfaction he got from tormenting the weak, the temporary respite he had in his sleep, none of it felt like this. The closest he'd gotten was making jokes at the door with the woman on the other side, and even then—even then the laughter had been cruel. The jokes about death and mayhem. But this—this was pure. No words required. No suffering. Nothing difficult to get in the way. He didn't want it to end.

"—S-stop I'm—gonna die—"

The hyperbole was amusing considering he could very well in an instant make that a reality, and was graciously choosing not to. Though the extended, uncontrollable laughter did seem to be taking a toll on the human. They were laughing so hard that tears were streaming down their flushed cheeks, but that only made him cackle louder, press down harder.

His hands were starting to leave claw marks on their stomach but he didn't yet let up. The gasping, shrieking pleas for him to stop had transitioned from gleeful and half-hearted to insistent and pained, but he still didn't cease. The human's arms were occupied with holding their sides for dear life, as though trying to block his attack or keep their skin from splitting from all the hyperventilation, but they'd started attempting to kick at him with their legs, boots barely missing his hip.

"—H—hurt—s-!" They kept kicking and squirming, and suddenly he wasn't having fun anymore.

The jovial expression on his face dropped to murderous as his hands stilled, eyes disappearing completely. " _ **then why do you keep laughing?**_ _"_

The look of terror was back. He shifted his weight just a little to unpin the child, and the second they were free they practically crab-walked away until their back was against the wall, trembling and hiccupping. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Sans not moving an inch. That awful look still on his face.

Slowly, though, he began to get up, putting his hands back in his pockets. The one eye returning.

"…yeah." The human wasn't talking and that made him angrier than words could express. "yeah that's more like it, i think. i'd watch that stomach of yours when you're dealing with mettaton, human. it's a real weak spot. most people aren't as _nice_ as i am about that kind of stuff."

Still no reply. Just labored breathing and wiping tears off their cheeks.

"but hey, i guess i'll get to see what your insides look like after all."

It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it as soon as the words came out of his mouth. The human started to blubber again, no longer looking at him. Shaking harder like he'd threatened to do it himself. It was another thing he'd never seen them do. They hadn't even cried in Waterfall when he tricked them into getting jalapeno on their eyes with the telescope. And that gag made _everyone_ cry.

"you little _snot_."

Fine. Then it was back to the cruel pranks that amused no one but himself.

When the child looked up again, Sans was gone.


	11. Pie

Sans didn't cook. He only ever ate at Grillby's.

It wasn't that he never learned, which is what perplexed Papyrus about that issue. He remembered instances in his childhood where his brother had made him something, and while he was certainly no five-star chef, the quality of the food was certainly better than the greasy bar that he always ate from. And though he would never admit it to anyone, it was better than Papyrus himself was capable of making. For years now, however, he refused to cook. And if there was a rare occasion when he did, it always resulted in a kitchen fire.

Papyrus always made sure Sans knew how fiercely he disapproved of his setting fire to their kitchen. A few broken bones could be healed with magic or time. Being burned to a charred crisp could not.

And, of course, it was a hell of a mess to clean up.

When he walked into their house late in the evening from a meeting with Undyne that had gone marginally better than usual, he smelled something cooking and immediately assumed the worst, feeling a flare of rage.

" _SANS_."

That little screw up was going to burn their entire house down.

" _SANS WHAT ARE YOU DOING."_

"—shit—" He heard his brother's voice from the kitchen as he stalked over to it, flinging the door open with a hearty bang. Surprisingly enough, there was no fire. Not yet. Just Sans watching the oven with an anxious look on his face (although many of his expressions were anxious), jumping back when he was interrupted as though he knew he was doing something he shouldn't. "—i'm just—just baking, boss. –i thought—y-you would be out longer-"

"WELL I GOT HOME EARLY." Papyrus shoved Sans farther away so he could see better what was inside the oven. "YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT YOU COOKING, SANS. AM I GOING TO HAVE TO EXPLAIN IT AGAIN?"

"c—come on boss, this one—this one's turning out fine. i'm not going to burn it." He didn't sound too sure, and after a moment pushed back so he could watch the progress of…whatever it was. It was hard to tell through the dirty glass of their oven window. "i—just have to wait until it's finished."

"AND WHEN WILL THAT BE?"

There was a small _ding!_ from their kitchen timer and Sans grinned up at him, as though looking for some kind of approval. Papyrus crossed his arms and scowled.

"uh right—right now. i'll just—get this out then."

As he watched his brother grab some oven mitts and pop open the oven door, Papyrus brought a hand to his chin and thought. Generally speaking whenever he came home at this hour the weaker of the two was either watching TV or sleeping. If not that, then something else that required no effort at all. Something he could do without exhausting himself. From the looks of things though, not only had he put in the effort to actually _make_ something, but he'd been to the store to purchase the ingredients for it. Used canisters and dirty bowls littered the counter, as well as several receipts.

Puzzling.

Whatever the reason was, now that he could get a good look at the food it was certainly…strange. On the surface at least it appeared to resemble a quiche, set in a round tin with a flaky crust. But that's where the similarities ended. The filling was homogenous and gooey looking, a dark brown/orange color. Papyrus glanced at Sans as he set the tin down on the table.

"WHAT IS THAT?" He leaned down to sniff it. It certainly didn't _smell_ like quiche. It smelled like…cinnamon and butterscotch.

"it's uh, it's just—just something that, uh…" Sans seemed to fumble for the right word, heading to the drawer for a serving knife. "…something that someone i know gave me the recipe for. said i should try it."

"AND WHO IS THIS SOMEONE?"

" _just_ …someone. –you wouldn't know them."

"OH _WOULDN'T_ I?" Papyrus took an inordinate amount of offense to that, pulling Sans back by the hood of his jacket before he could cut into the whatever it was, hearing a small yelp as he did so. "TELL ME WHO THEY ARE."

"it's just some—some person—" Sans began to sweat, trying to lightly pull from his brother's grip but Papyrus held fast. "i-i-i don't—i don't really know who they are exactly, i never asked, that's not the—the point."

Though he wasn't satisfied with that answer—not by a long shot—this didn't seem to be the right time to interrogate his weak underling about all of the acquaintances that he kept. Not when he was actually making an effort to do something for once in his miserable life. So begrudgingly, Papyrus let go and forced himself to calm down. "…FINE. THEN WE WILL GET BACK TO THE MATTER AT HAND."

"yeah. –yeah, thanks boss." Sans took a moment to retrieve his knife, neatly slicing through the malleable surface of the not-quiche with a quiet, slick squishing sound. Then he went for a plate, careful to pick the one that wasn't cracked or chipped. After carefully sliding the slice onto the plate, Sans offered it to Papyrus. "…here. –if you—wanted to try it, that is. i haven't tasted it yet."

He continued to scowl but he picked up the plate. It looked too squishy to hold by the crust, and he had to get a fork. It occurred to him as he was about to eat that it might be poisoned. …But then again if his brother was going to poison him, he probably would have done so by now. So he took a hesitant taste.

Immediately his face screwed up in disgust. "THIS IS _SWEET."_

Sans frowned at that, going to reach for the plate. Papyrus cut him off by tossing the whole thing—plate and silverware and all—into the trash. "—what the hell did you think it was going to be? it's _butterscotch and cinnamon_."

"IT IS _DISGUSTING."_ Truthfully he had no doubt that it was very well made, but the point was still there. "I DON'T WHY YOU WOULD MAKE SOMETHING SO-SO—"

" _what?_ something so _what?_ "

Sans actually looked angry for a moment. Snarling further, Papyrus picked up the pie tin and shoved it into his brother's arms, actually knocking him back a step. " _GET RID OF IT._ YOU ARE NOT KEEPING SWEETS IN THIS HOUSE."

"but boss—"

"NO BUTS."

With that he decided that he was too tired to put up with any more, turning tail and stalking off to his room. Though he could have sworn he heard his brother mutter "asshole…" as he left, he was still too drained from his earlier meeting to do anything but write a mental note to wake Sans up earlier than usual the next morning.

* * *

Her head rested against the cold stone door as she sat. It was soothing—she needed soothing after the day that she'd had. Her kitchen was a mess, the basement was a mess, her thoughts were a mess.

All of her magic felt drained. Low on energy it was a little hard to stand.

Normally such feelings necessitated sleep in her nice, cozy bed, but she knew that today he would be making his rounds near the ruins. She had never been absent or even late to a single meeting, so exhaustion aside she was there, notebook propped open in her lap and a dark pen in her hand.

There was some waiting before she heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow.

And then:

"knock knock."

In spite of herself she grinned.

"Who's there?"

"nana."

A moment to write.

"Nana who?"

"Nana your business."

Not his most vicious. She didn't laugh as loud as usual, but now they knew the other was there. Generally, he would wait to let her tell one of her own, but instead he added quickly:

"i made the—the pie thing? i made it yesterday."

"Oh?" That warmed her soul. She hadn't expected him to actually try it, he'd been so brusque when she made the suggestion. "Did it turn out alright? You didn't set it on fire, did you?"

"nah, nah. it was fine, i kept my eye on it. turned out great."

"Did it? I'm glad."

She could hear a dry chuckle through the stone.

"yeah, well, bro didn't like it so much. told me to get rid of it."

There was the sound of eating from the other side.

"was a little sweet so i spread some mustard on it. hope that's okay."

She laughs at that, light and airy.

"Oh yes, that's fine. You can make whatever additions you like. You see I…Whenever I'm making it for my children, I too always add in an extra ingredient. One that I didn't tell you about."

"oh yeah?" He snorts a little as he eats. He's probably using his hands rather than silverware, not even bothering to cut it into pieces. "what's that?"

"Sedatives."

There's a long silence on his end, and she waits patiently for his response, jotting down some more notes.

"…what?"

"So they can sleep." _Sleep forever._

"uh…is that a…joke?"

She didn't respond for a while, noticing a spot of blood on her shirt. She'd have to burn it. How long had that been there?

"lady? …you—"

"Yes. …Yes it's a joke."

"ah. right, well—it sucked."

The relief in his voice was palpable and it made her heart ache.

"My apologies. I suppose I'm off my game today."

"yeah no shit."

"I have been thinking." She paused, thoughtfully. "I have a…challenge, for you. If you think you can do it."

"uh…a challenge? …you know lady i'm not…really one for challenges."

"Nonsense." She spoke a bit softer, knowing he'd be pressing his ears (if he had any) up against the wall to know what she was saying. "You'll like this one. I think it's very interesting. You wish to prove yourself, do you not? You don't want to be the fool who can't even handle a dare from an old woman do you?"

She heard his voice grow tense. "yeah? well go on then."

"Someday, a human will pass through this door." Someday soon, perhaps. There wasn't as much fight left in her as there used to be. "Someday, you will see a child walk through that forest. Perhaps while you are manning your position. If that day should come…and I think it will…Do you know what I think you should do?"

"shit, lady if i knew that i wouldn't be listening to you now, would i?"

She smiled. She thumbed the spot of blood absently.

"Take their soul. Before King Asgore can get his grubby hands on it."


	12. Murderer

It was rare to see a dog that wasn't a member of the canine unit in Snowdin. So much so that Sans was legitimately baffled by the sight as he made his way around the woods, moving in to get a closer look. Sneakers crunching in the snow.

The creature was bounding around a bit, leaving little pawprints everywhere. It was too light to sink beneath the layer of packing snow that everyone else had to trudge through, instead just lightly dusting its matted fur with the white of the powder that had settled on the harder surface.

Lucky bastard. Looked pretty happy, too, despite how…generally homeless it looked.

"what are you so happy about?"

The comment had been muttered to himself, but somehow the little monster heard it and came bounding towards him, tongue lolling in its mouth.

"what—aw geez—" There was some mild anxiety at the feeling of a stranger approaching, but more than that was bewildered irritation. "—go away you annoying little—dog!"

Kicking at it didn't seem to help, not that his efforts to hit really connected or did any damage, snow-laden as he was. The annoying dog just hopped around him as though wanting to play. Sans had been circled by the canine unit before—there was nothing remotely predatory in this creature. No wonder it wasn't wearing a uniform.

"go _away_. i have to get home."

The dog panted and whined as he started stomping towards the road, keeping pace the whole way.

" _shoo_ you stupid _mutt_."

The last thing he wanted was for something as stupid as this to follow him home, trying to snarl and growl back as he made his way into Snowdin but apparently his hostility was interpreted as playful aggression.

He had enough problems with the other monsters. Not to mention Papyrus. God knows what would happen if he saw something that cheerful following his brother around. He might get the wrong idea.

Granted, as Sans thought when he saw the piece of paper affixed to the sign into town with staples, there were all sorts of wrong ideas in his head already.

"what the _hell_ is this?"

Oh dear. He and baby brother were going to have to have a talk.

The dog continued to follow him even as Sans' rage took him over, running as fast as his short legs would carry him to the place he called home. Before going inside he headed to the shed, opening it up and gesturing for the monster to get in. When it ended up just staring at him stupidly, tail thumping against the snow, he sighed and conjured up his singular bone attack.

" _fetch_." When the dog fled into the shack after it, he slammed the door.

No less furious from his detour, Sans then flung open the door to the main house, storming to the desk where he knew Papyrus was jotting down notes from his "patrol", and slammed the poster down in front of him. "' _meeting to discuss snowdin crime rate at new guard outpost'?_ "Before the taller skeleton could even open his mouth, Sans growled, voice slightly shaking, "are you trying to get a fucking _target_ painted on our house, paps!?"

Papyrus was wearing a threadbare black T-shirt and black pants, and for some reason to Sans that made him look even stupider as he picked up the poster and scowled. "WHERE DID YOU GET THIS? DID YOU TAKE IT FROM ONE OF MY STRATEGIC LOCATIONS?"

"strategic _what_? have you lost your _mind_?"

"I ARRANGED THEM ALL IN THE BEST PLACES TO GET THE MOST PEOPLE TO SEE THEM. WHAT IS THE POINT OF SETTING UP POSTERS IF THEY ARE NOT—"

" _are you trying to get us killed_?" He grabbed the poster back and waved it in Papyrus' face. "you don't _do things like this_ , what the hell is the matter with you? you're supposed to be quiet and keep to yourself and hope that no one dusts you when you go buy groceries _haven't i taught you anything?"_

Papyrus scowled heavily, standing up to his full height. Despite having shot up like a weed when he'd become a teenager he still seemed unaccustomed to being intimidating with his size, and the effort almost made Sans snort. "THAT IS WHY I HAD TO TAKE ACTION, BROTHER. WE CANNOT LIVE LIKE THIS. WE MUST DO SOMETHING ABOUT THE CRIMINALS THAT LEAVE INNOCENT CITIZENS TERRIFIED FOR THEIR LIVES WHEN THEY WALK DOWN THE STREET!"

"what are you _talking about_?" The idea of taking action to improve their situation had never even once occurred to him. "what _action_?"

"THE _MEETING_. I AM GOING TO GET EVERYONE IN TOWN INVOLVED. I WILL USE THE OPPORTUNITY TO STOP THE CRIMINALS FROM CONTINUING IN THEIR CRUEL WAYS, AND THEN SNOWDIN WILL BE SAFE AGAIN."

For a moment he couldn't really understand what he was hearing. It sounded like gibberish. It might as well have been gibberish.

"you think that's-? … _auuuuuugggh_ you are such a _**MORON**_."

Sans roughly grabbed Papyrus' arm and started to drag him towards the door, teeth gritted. As though expecting a beating of some kind, or maybe just getting thrown outside to the other monsters that were probably reading those stupid, stupid posters, he began to helplessly cry out, "SANS! SANS STOP IT! LET ME GO! SANS-"

" _ **shut up you little twerp."**_ Kicking the front door open, he pulled his struggling brother back around to the shed and shoved him inside. The annoying dog was still there, rolling around on the bare concrete floor to scratch its back.

"WHAT IS THAT?"

"a dog." Sans nudged the little thing with his foot and it rolled back over, tail wagging at the sight of him. "followed me home today. that's not important."

"SANS WE CANNOT KEEP A PET IN THE HOUSE—"

" _just shut up and listen to me."_ It worked, and he waited until he made sure he wouldn't get interrupted before continuing. "you think you're capable of turning around a whole town full of crooks and murderers, papyrus? you think you can change them? you have _no fucking idea._ do you know what kind of person you have to be to reign people like that in? do you think you're strong?"

It was clear by his tone that the last question wasn't rhetorical, and Papyrus puffed out his chest indignantly.

"OF COURSE I AM STRONG. I AM GOING TO MAKE EVERYONE SEE THAT THEIR CRIMES ARE WRONG AND THAT THEY CAN'T GET AWAY WITH—"

"then kill this dog."

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of the annoying mutt licking itself. When Papyrus turned to look at Sans his voice was the slightest bit quieter. "…WHAT?"

"this world is _dog eat dog_. you think you're so tough? you think you're gonna get _anyone_ to listen to you? then kill this one. right now. prove you can handle one stupid little monster that isn't even gonna fight back."

There was another long pause. The younger brother turned to look down at the creature that was now happily gnawing on the bone attack that Sans had given it earlier. Hands clenching into fists at his side.

But he didn't move to do anything.

"no? yeah. i thought so. so stop talking out your ass and help me tear those posters down."

Papyrus' shoulders were trembling, and Sans rolled his eyes as he watched. His brother had always seemed afraid of his own strength. More specifically, afraid of accidentally hurting someone with it. He could put a crack in a cave wall the size of—well—himself. But the idea of so much as cutting a little kid's finger made him shudder and stutter out apologies. Between the two of them—a shortstack riddled with anxiety and a lanky coward—there wasn't any way to defend themselves if they started pissing people off with this "clean up the streets" crap.

Just as Sans was about to turn the door handle to leave, behind him he heard the dog yelp.

Something cold seemed to root itself in his stomach, hand still resting on the metal handle as he heard the dog began to whine and wheeze.

It might behoove him to turn around. To see what was happening. But…he knew he didn't want to.

The wheezing turned to barking. And then choking. The sound of something hard hitting soft flesh was easy to discern, more whining and then suddenly that stopped too.

There was still the sound of labored breathing. It wasn't dead yet.

"pap…yrus?" Sans' own voice was suddenly weak and impossible to hear over the wet _snap_ that followed.

Thousands of grains of sand falling onto hard stone. …That's the noise that came after the snap. A few seconds passed and finally he forced himself to turn around.

There was a pile of grey on the floor. Papyrus loomed over it, trembling.

"…papyrus?"

There was no response. His brother just continued to stand there, eye sockets emptily gazing at the accumulated dust on his hands. There was more down his front, ruining his already pretty ruined shirt. Sans hadn't thought that a creature so small could give off that much dust, actually.

"holy shit, you…you actually killed it." The amazement came into his tone unbidden. It shouldn't be a big deal—everyone killed everybody, it was the natural order of things. It was just how things were. …For everyone but Papyrus.

And the latter fact was something that had frustrated him to no end. So why did it make him feel so conflicted now?

"…hey—" There was barely a reaction when Sans went to grab Papyrus' hand, slowly pulling it out of his eye line as he started leading him out of the garage. "…hey, come on. let's…let's get you cleaned up, okay?"

Though he still didn't speak a word, expression vacant and drifting to his feet, he didn't resist when Sans took him to the house. So there was an awful silence between them because the normally chatty younger brother was dead quiet and the older brother had no idea what he was supposed to say in a situation like this.

This is what he'd said, right? This is what he'd wanted?

Papyrus was LV 2 now.

Sans wondered if he felt stronger.

The floorboards creaked as they climbed the stairs. Sans felt a sudden, inexplicable twinge of guilt at the sound but buried it deep, leading Papyrus into the bathroom.

"okay so…" Sans waited at the doorway. Not wanting to look anymore, not wanting to see the soft sprinkling all over Papyrus' body like snow, like ash. "…here we are."

Papyrus didn't move. He just continued to stare at the floor.

"pap. get cleaned off."

Still no response. There was something in his stomach, a swirling mix of stricken grief and irritation, and he added a harsh edge to his voice—like he used to do when his little brother was being stubborn about taking a bath. " _get in the fucking shower."_

Obediently, but slowly, like a broken wind-up toy, Papyrus climbed into the tub. Sighing, Sans strode back in, having to pull up a stool to reach the back of his sibling's shirt so he could properly pull it off of him, the other allowing him to without resistance. Through the holes in the fabric his entire rib cage had gotten dirty.

There was no way in hell he was going to be standing on a stool the entire time. Grumbling to himself he placed a hand on Papyrus' back and forced him to sit down in the tub, going to turn on the shower. The water was ice cold. Some of the awful white clung with the moisture, and some started to slip down the drain. He grabbed a sponge from the sink. They didn't have any soap, so it would have to do on its own.

At least the pipes didn't scream.

"…hey, it…it was an annoying little shit anyway." Sans had to scrub a little around Papyrus' sternum, the dust clinging to the little chips in his bones from countless fights and roughhousing and…something frightening long ago that Sans was sure he should have remembered but couldn't no matter how hard he tried. "probably wouldn't have made it past next week the way it was yapping around and—following people everywhere."

There was a grunt. It might have been a laugh or it might have been derision, but it was a response and it spurred Sans on.

"better that than someone important. and—now you—now you're…you know. if someone worse comes along you'll be ready."

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

"i'm proud of you pap."

Maybe that was an even worse thing to say.

Water dripped from slightly yellowed bones, soaking Sans' jacket which he hadn't had the foresight to remove. There was still some dust on Papyrus' fingers, and he focused so intently on cleaning them that when he glanced up again he had no idea how long Papyrus had been staring at him for.

"uh…" There was no blame in that look. But there wasn't much of anything else, either. Hollow like glass buttons on an unpossessed training dummy. "…i uh…i guess you proved me wrong huh?" His weak smile wavered, probably offering no comfort to either of them but it was the only expression he could make. "…and hey uh…this tech—technically makes you stronger than me now. a little."

At first Sans thought that he might have turned his only companion into a complete vegetable and that nothing he said would garner a response. Then he felt Papyrus draw his hand away from where he'd been holding it, the fingers forming into a loose fist. Some emotion started to come back into his eyes, although it was hard to tell what yet.

"does it—"

Papyrus cleared his throat, looking back towards the bathroom door and gesturing at Sans. He seemed to be too stricken for words still but it was clear what he wanted and the small skeleton gratefully excused himself, feeling anxiety welling up again. As he left he heard the sharp scratch of curtain rings, heading into his room and staying there.

Feeling a million thoughts and worries pressing down on his chest, he passed out to the sound of the shower running.

The next morning Papyrus had left a note on his door and a bag from Grillby's in the kitchen.

All the note said was:

"JOINING THE ROYAL GUARD. BE BACK SOON."


	13. Golden

The very first time that Papyrus had beaten Sans, he had knocked his tooth out.

It was common knowledge in Snowdin at this point. That was why the short, angry skeleton had come to the bar one evening with a brand new gold tooth after a week-long absence from his usual stool. That was what he'd told everyone who asked, gurgling down mustard and refusing all of his usual drinks.

What he tended to omit from the story was that the tooth hadn't actually been knocked out. Rather, Papyrus had cracked off the top half with his boot heel, and it had gotten lost in the snow.

What followed that incident had been a period of sullen silence on Papyrus' end as he had stalked through their house and started reorganizing everything to be, as he'd said, more appropriate for a new member of the Royal Guard, and shocked obedience on Sans' end. He hadn't known how to process the change—a brother who was willing to make him suffer. Someone who wouldn't accept so much as backtalk.

And it really hadn't helped that his tooth was broken.

Unwilling to showcase the damage, Sans had restricted himself to mindlessly puttering around the house as Papyrus completely rearranged everything familiar, and stumbling through his patrol to avoid getting another serious beating and losing another tooth. All of his familiar haunts went unvisited. For good measure he ate less. It hurt to chew.

Papyrus had wanted to intervene with the damage immediately but Sans had simply repeated, over and over, "it's fine, it'll grow back." Not wanting to go to the hassle of visiting a dentist because the ones down here never used Novocain. But it wasn't growing back, obviously. Teeth didn't grow back. Not adult teeth, anyway.

The seventh night after all this nonsense started he'd returned from his patrol to find his brother waiting for him in the living room, stone-faced with his now-perfect posture and still in the same set of armor that he had worn since returning from Undyne's. He had his hands behind his back.

For a moment it was like looking at a stranger. Just for a moment.

"ah…" They hadn't had much conversation since…well. Since even before the training, honestly. "…hey bro—boss." The new designation was hard to get used to. He'd been good at remembering initially but as days passed he was slowly beginning to slip into old routines, old ways of thinking. "…what's up?"

Papyrus inclined his head towards the kitchen, eyes flashing slightly and moving his hands out in front of him to show that he was carrying a bottle. It looked like alcohol. "I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO MAKE UP FOR OUR LITTLE…MISHAP."

The mishap Sans assumed referred to the fact that his tooth had broken and not that Papyrus had kicked him in the face. Shaking his head a little he followed the taller skeleton to the kitchen table, sitting down across from him when he was indicated to. "you don't have to—i mean accidents happen, right? i mean shit it's just uh…pure luck that i haven't broken one of your teeth at some point, right?"

He followed up with a weak chuckle and in response Papyrus merely slammed the bottle and a single scotch glass down on the table's wooden surface. The abruptness of the sound made Sans jump.

"BE THAT AS IT MAY, I STILL FEEL…UNSATISFIED WITH HOW THERE IS NOW A GAP IN YOUR SMILE."

"well, toothfully i'm just glad that—" He was cut off with a familiar sort of _harrumph_ that tended to follow any puns that he made in the house and grinned despite himself—the air sucking into his mouth and causing a slight stab of pain in his jaw. It was with all his strength that he managed to keep from whining or wincing as Papyrus started to open the bottle and pour its contents into the scotch glass. "…what's that you got there?"

"SPIDER WHISKEY." After a brief moment to show off the label, Papyrus slid the glass towards his brother, a slight crooked smile playing on his face. "TRY IT."

Sans regarded the drink as though it was poison, picking it up and looking it over in the light. "uh…well the thing is paps—boss—i uh, i can't really drink anything cold right now on account of the extreme agony that—"

"DRINK IT NOW OR I WILL FORCE YOUR MOUTH OPEN AND POUR IT DOWN YOUR THROAT."

 _That_ alarmed him, red eye flaring as he turned his gaze back to his brother to examine him more closely.

The flash of anger that he'd heard was already gone from his features at that point. Just an expectant look and gloved claws tapping impatiently on the table.

"you don't want any?"

"I AM NOT GOING TO SULLY MY GOOD JUDGMENT BY IMBIBING THAT _SWILL_." That particular look of disgust was very familiar and it almost…almost put him back at ease. Like things would get back to normal soon. "BUT IT IS NOT FOR ME, IT IS A…A GIFT FOR YOU."

"…alright."

The extreme agony Sans had referred to hadn't been an understatement. The first swig, he'd managed to swish the liquid down the right side of his mouth. Easy. It burned going down, though, and as his vision very slightly blurred the second drink of the glass had brought the stinging, fiery alcohol right down on his open tooth. He'd been unable to hold back the cry of pain then, choking and spilling the spare liquid left.

Papyrus folded his hands and looked him over patiently. "HOW IS IT?" As though oblivious to the pain he was in.

"it's uh—" It was strong. Very, very strong. Sans usually didn't touch the stuff the spiders made for that very reason. "it's good? it—" His head swam. "it's good for—getting—drunk i thin—" The room started to get darker, as though the lightbulbs in the kitchen were burning out. "uh—" Another spasm in his chest and he coughed. It really, really burned.

Papyrus' smile widened.

Sans' head hit the table.

* * *

When Sans woke up again a single bare bulb swayed overhead, and he knew that he was in the shed. His knees were on the floor and when he tried to stand he felt shooting pain in his mouth so he just stayed where he was, eyelids flickering and a low groan rising up from his neck bones.

Eventually, as his consciousness cleared he realized that his chin was resting on another table—a lower one, closer to a workbench in height, maybe. He couldn't see anything else. He didn't know why he couldn't move.

…Or close his mouth.

He brought a hand up to his broken tooth and found it was stuck in a vise attached to the table.

"GOOD! YOU ARE AWAKE."

Papyrus's voice came from behind him, and unthinkingly Sans tried to turn to look at him before the pain again reminded him to stay put. He heard footsteps on the dusty floor and soon enough his brother came into view anyway. Angry, cracking scar making him look particularly ghastly in a way the smaller skeleton really wasn't used to.

There was a grin on his face.

"HOW ARE YOU FEELING? STILL DIZZY?"

Nothing but confused sputtering came in reply, futilely trying to pry at the vise. Papyrus must have decided by his movements that he was aware enough to continue, going to lean down to the table and prop his head up by his elbows. In his still giddy, confused mind Sans thought that he looked a little bit like a demented schoolgirl and wheezed, grin almost splitting his face oh god his mouth hurt it hurt so much.

"I HAVE NOTICED TWO THINGS THAT CONCERN ME WHEN IT COMES TO YOU, SANS." Now the devil seemed to be rooting around in his pocket for something after examining his subject for a minute, eye sockets creased in concentration. Whatever it was when he found it he kept it clenched in his fist so that Sans couldn't get a look at it, starting to scowl just a little bit—an almost theatrical kind, which suggested he was making the look more for show than genuine emotion.

"FIRST AND MOST IMPORTANT IS THE FACT THAT DESPITE MAKING VERY CLEAR THAT I AM YOUR SUPERIOR OFFICER AND THAT YOU ARE TO TREAT ME AS SUCH…YOU KEEP TALKING TO ME LIKE I AM YOUR KID BROTHER."

Oh.

He tried to say something, probably to the effect of _the hell are you talking about of course you're my kid brother you'll always be my kid brother that's how ages work you moron_ but all that came out was a slight whine.

"I WAS GOING TO DO THIS TO YOU WHILE YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS—" he continued, starting to stand again and stretch his legs. "BUT THEN I REALIZED THAT THIS WAS AN EXCELLENT LEARNING OPPORTUNITY FOR PRECISELY WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT."

"guh?"

"TO PROVE TO YOU THAT I AM SERIOUS. TO KILL WHATEVER IS LEFT IN YOU THAT THINKS I AM A WEAKLING WHO CAN BE PUSHED AROUND BY THE LIKES OF YOU. OR ANYONE ELSE FOR THAT MATTER."

Sans' words were just barely coherent as he tried to bluster his way through, but somehow made the right syllables. He still didn't know what was going on but he knew a bad time when he saw one. "no no no you don't have to—i-i can—get with the program pap—boss—i just have to g-get used to it this really isn't necessary—"

"I AM NOT FINISHED TALKING." A swift slap upside the head shut him up, and his small clawed hands scratched uselessly at the table. "THE SECOND THING I HAVE NOTICED IS THAT DESPITE YOUR _BLATANT LIES_ YOUR TOOTH HAS NOT GROWN BACK. IT IS REALLY VERY UNSIGHTLY SO I HAVE DECIDED TO RECTIFY THE SITUATION."

With that, finally, Papyrus showed him the object that he held in his closed hand, and Sans began to shiver in earnest, feeling something cold deep in his core despite the jacket he always had on.

It was a small gold tooth.

"I HAD DR. ALPHYS MAKE THIS FOR ME USING YOUR DENTAL RECORDS. IT IS GOING TO LOOK VERY COOL ON YOU, I GUARANTEE IT."

Sans gurgled in fear. It only took half a second to realize what his brother was getting at. He couldn't stop shaking. It was ridiculous—it probably wouldn't even hurt as much as having the damn thing broken in the first place and yet he felt so—so helpless. God he really was a-

What was it that Papyrus had called him when he was beating his face in?

A shiftless loser and a coward?

Yeah. That was it.

Papyrus spun something on the other side of the table and the vise tightened just a little.

"-is this about revenge!?" His voice was beginning to sound a bit hysterical, bracing his hands against the hard surface of the wood as his brother circled him. "for all the stuff i did!?"

"YOU ARE GOING TO WANT TO HOLD STILL FOR THIS NEXT PART."

"bro—b-boss—" Neither one felt correct to him anymore and he almost sobbed like a big dumb child because he couldn't talk right even if he didn't have his mouth pried open by his one tooth. Front of his jaw irrationally stuttering out from somewhere dark what might have sounded like _**doc please it hurts**_. His vision blurred. "p—papyrus—"

"YOU NEED TO UNDERSTAND THAT THE PERSON YOU ARE TRYING TO APPEAL TO NO LONGER EXISTS." Papyrus leaned down and braced a boot against the table.

No no no no no-

" _i'm sorry—"_ Words started tumbling out of Sans' mouth, slurred and almost unintelligible as he squirmed, eye wildly rocketing around as he attempted to look back. " _i'm sorry papyrus i'm sorry i was such an asshole to you please don't do thispleasedon'tripmytoothouti'msorr—"_

"YOU _REALLY ARE_ **PATHETIC**."

Papyrus stuck his fingers in Sans' eye sockets as though his skull was a bowling ball and wrenched him away from the table. With a sickening pop he came loose, tumbling down to the ground with roaring, splitting pain in his mouth. Before he could reorient himself he was pinned down again, and he felt his tormentor jam the golden tooth into the now empty socket. Then there was the itchy, awful tingle of healing magic as the bastard fixed him up just enough for it not to slip out.

And then finally Sans was released, and he let out a loud hiss, clutching his battered jaw. The room spun. Out of the corner of his eye he saw what was left of his original tooth crumble to dust in the vise.

Before he could even attempt to get up he saw the shadow of his brother looming over him again, reaching out a clawed hand to tilt up his chin and turn the new tooth towards him. The angle that he moved his head hurt but Sans wasn't really in any position to complain about it.

"I STILL HAVE SOME OF THAT WHISKEY," he'd said finally, smiling at his handiwork. "IF YOU WANTED TO OBLIVIATE THE PAIN FOR A FEW HOURS. DO YOU?"

It took a moment for Sans to be able to form words, and when he did they came out wrong—croaked and broken and far too quiet. The only thing he really managed was, "y—y…es."

"YES _WHAT?_ "

For one bizarre, hilarious moment he thought that maybe what he should append to that sentence was "please". But when he looked up at those eyes—the new scar running across Papyrus' left eye, the hard line that his brows formed, all that came out at first was a wheezing chuckle.

And then:

"...yes…boss."

It was the correct answer. Within a minute he came back and poured the alcohol in Sans' mouth. After that he felt nothing.


	14. Friends Treat Friends To Dinner

Frisk looked out at the rain practically flooding the road in front of them from a dry vantage point in a smaller cavern and wondered if traversing this nightmarish hellscape in which they were trapped was worth getting soaked over.

True, a little water wasn't going to kill anyone. Even if they got sick the child probably wouldn't have to worry about that for a day or so. And who knows what other terror would happen by then? But it was another small misery. Individually, it didn't matter that the cinnamon bunnies were sour and bitter. On its own, it wasn't that big a deal that the echo flowers said snide things to the child as they walked through Waterfall. Compared to everything else, it wasn't worth thinking about that Frisk's sweater was torn.

It didn't _matter_ that it was raining, that the small human would get rained on. Except that it would be one more small misery on a quickly accumulating pile that was starting to rival getting killed by Papyrus eighteen times in progressively more gruesome ways before finally managing to best him in battle.

Maybe Flowey was around somewhere and he could be talked into using his petals as a sort of umbrella. It wasn't like flowers could get pneumonia, after all.

Or maybe they should stop acting like a baby and just deal with it.

…There had to be a place to dry off up ahead.

…Even if everything thus far had been cold and damp.

"hey kid."

The gruff, rumbly voice was jovial but Frisk still turned around in a sudden jolt of fear to see Sans standing there, one eye glittering red against the cavern walls and sharp teeth stretched into a playful grin. Last time they'd spoken he'd done a nasty trick with a telescope. The child almost had to dunk their head in the water to soothe the burning in their eyes afterwards. So it wasn't exactly pleasant to see him there, even if he didn't seem that interested in killing or capturing them.

"…Hello."

The acknowledgment seemed to make his face light up, and he leaned back on his heels once before crossing in front of them to look out into the rain and water puddles outside the low-ceiling of the cavern. "looks like you're in a bit of a situation, huh? the way i see it, you go out there and get rained on and you'll catch your _death_ of cold." His voice sounded a little practiced, to the child's ear. Like he'd run the sentence in his head over and over again to make sure the words were right. ...It was just a relatable thing to think about him.

And it was clear he was going somewhere with it, so Frisk let it continue, though edging away from him somewhat.

Finished gazing at the rain-like drips from the ceiling, he glanced back with a particularly sleazy expression. "lucky for you, i happen to be a bona-fide umbrella salesman."

What. "…I thought you were a sentry."

"a guy can't have more than one job?" He reached into an interior pocket of his coat and produced a small, collapsed blue umbrella. "see? i'm all set. look at me, bein' a generous person and helping you out in a jam."

After an appraising, suspicious look Frisk hesitantly began to reach for the umbrella. It would be a nice change for something to go their way for once. To keep their determination going strong. It didn't _look_ like a trap—and even if it was rigged to, say, drop garbage on them when they opened it up, it would be better than having nothing at all.

But as their hand got close, Sans swatted it away. "hey hey hey, bucko. i didn't say i was givin' this to ya for _free_. i gotta earn a living somehow, you know? it's not like i get to keep my sentry money."

That put a frown on Frisk's face, looking down at the red marks his claws had made on their hand before glancing back up at him. They were tempted to inform him that extortion wasn't particularly generous at all, but thought better of it. "…Alright. How much do you want for it?"

"just the low low price of 600 gold."

Neither was price gouging. " _What?_ "

"ay, what can i say? demand for umbrellas is high in waterfall."

"That's not fair."

"you can take it or leave it, kid."

It wasn't that Frisk didn't have the money. …They did. It was just that—there were other things that they might have been able to spend that money on. Food, for instance. To keep from falling in battle so often. They already had over 18 deaths to their name.

"…Fine."

Sans seemed almost surprised at that at first, and when handed the bag of coins didn't seem to know what to do with it. When he glanced back up at Frisk, waiting expectantly for the umbrella, he seemed about to say something. But whatever it was it morphed into. "—glad to do business with ya, twerp."

He handed it off, and when the child was busy inspecting the product he vanished.

Frisk struggled a little with the strap before finally succeeding in opening the umbrella.

It was full of holes.

* * *

After their last encounter with Sans back closer to the lab in Hotland, Frisk wasn't pleased to see him standing there just outside the MTT Dungeons. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the second he come into view, they stopped and turned right around hoping he hadn't seen them.

It would be easier if Flowey was around. Sans seemed only interested in bothering the child when they were alone, and if Flowey was there maybe he wouldn't do anything this time.

There was, of course, the possibility that he would get bored and leave if no one came by. But even after waiting for ten minutes—an ungodly long amount of time in this world where a single instant marked the difference between life and death—he hadn't moved from his spot. Just leaned back a little on the wall of the building and pulled his phone from his pocket, starting to play a game.

He was waiting for someone.

He was waiting for Frisk.

Sighing a little bit, they made their way over at last and got into his line of sight. He perked up, rolling a little on his heels before walking over. There was sweat on his skull and—it suddenly occurred to the human how strange it was for a skeleton to sweat this much. Or have any bodily functions at all.

"hi uh—human." His tone was…strange. Not knowing what to say in return, a long silence ensued before Sans spoke up again, making a noise like clearing his throat. "hey uh…how about you catch some dinner with me before you go fighting mettaton, huh? you look like you're starving."

The human almost retorted with, "It might be pretty gross if I have food in my stomach when Mettaton rips it open", but thought better of it and instead muttered, "I'm not really that hungry."

"oh bullshit."

"I'm not hungry for any dinner I would have to eat with _you_."

It was the meanest thing that Frisk had said the entire time they were in the underground, even in the face of all the terrible things they'd had to endure—and for a brief moment that showed on Sans' face. The smile curving downward, his eyes going empty and black. It was hard not to liken him in their mind to a kicked puppy before his smiling expression returned, falser looking than before.

The child sighed. "Can I go in now? …It's going to suck so…I have to get it out of the way."

"come on, kid. take a break. –and i don't mean i'm gonna—break anything o' yours—" He chuckled nervously, scraping his finger bones over his skull. "just grab a bite, and the two of us could—have a chat?"

"Sans—"

"-my treat?"

That gave them pause, tilting their head somewhat. …It was an uncharacteristically generous gesture. "…You good for it?"

"yeah. _yeah_ of course i'm good for it what's with that question?" He stuck his hands in his pockets, rummaging around for a minute before grinning wider and pulling out a small bag of coins. "see? come on, i'm hungry too. won't even have to pass the doorman 'cause i know a shortcut."

Frisk glanced back the way they had come, feeling a slight bundling of nerves in their stomach. And then, gripping the hem of their shirt tightly in their right hand, reached out the other for Sans'. "…Alright."


	15. Attacks

Papyrus hated being inside Alphys' lab. He told himself it was because he had to visit Hotland to get to it. The place was so poorly put together it was a wonder anyone was able to get anything done at all.

Though the truth was vaguer. A strong rush of unease that flooded his chest upon crossing the threshold. It took a moment of hesitation and steeling his will before he was able to do so on this occasion, wiping his face and making sure the only expression on his face was grim displeasure.

Alphys was nowhere in sight, but that might be because the entryway to the building was piled high with trash. Instant noodle wrappers, soda bottles, and whatever junk she liked to collect from the dump. Before she could came waddling out of the garbage, glasses askew and lab coat unbuttoned, he swiped a figurine lying on her desk, holding his hand back to Sans, the only one between them who actually had pockets.

When it wasn't immediately taken he glanced back and saw that his lackey was still in the doorway staring down at the space where Hotland's road ended and the lab tile began.

"SANS GET OVER HERE YOU LAZY SHIT."

Sans jumped, looking up and dashing to be next to Papyrus' side. He managed to shove the figurine in his coat pocket without being asked just as their resident mad scientist came lurching out of the dark to greet them.

"Papyrus…it's. Uh. Good to see you?.?.?.?.? I guess?.?.?.?"

"SPARE ME YOUR SARCASM." Papyrus also felt a little uncomfortable seeing Alphys, too. But he figured that was because she was also lazy waste of space. Or maybe because she was an utter terror on Undernet. "WHERE ARE THE REPORTS THAT KING ASGORE ASKED FOR?"

"No hello? Geez." Alphys shook her head, turning around and plodding towards the haphazard stack of papers on her desk as the two skeletons followed her inside. "Alright, alright…I hope you're happy, I worked all night on this."

"I AM NEVER HAPPY." He heard her make a scoff as she pulled out a drawer of documents, pulling them out to sort painfully slowly. Papyrus prepared another demand to hurry up when both of them were startled by the sound of empty soup cans and boxes for microwave dinners tumbling to the floor.

And there was Sans in the middle of it, sweating.

"WATCH WHAT YOU'RE DOING YOU CLUMSY FOOL."

Not that it really changed anything to have some garbage over _there_ instead of in the corner.

"—sorry boss. hard to see in here—"

Papyrus took no note of the way Sans abruptly stopped talking, Alphys hitting his gloves with the report stack. "Go on, take them."

He snatched them with a scowl and looked them over. All of it was in order, but poorly formatted. Likely on purpose. As he did so, he heard the diminutive scientist shuffling beside him.

"So. uh. Undyne couldn't have come to pick them up?.?.?.?.?.?.?"

"AFTER WHAT YOU PULLED LAST TIME?"

" _It was just a couple harmless pictures._ " Alphys adjusted her cracked, dirty glasses and sneered. "I didn't think she was going to be so sensitive about it."

"I BELIEVE THE REASON SHE TOLD ME TO COME OVER IN HER PLACE WAS BECAUSE SHE COULD NOT GUARANTEE YOUR SAFETY IF THE TWO OF YOU WERE ALONE TOGETHER." That seemed to frighten her a little. Good. She deserved to be frightened.

"…Did she really say that?"

"AS A MATTER OF FACT SHE DID." She hadn't. But she _had_ taken her anger at the incident out on Papyrus, so he wasn't ready to risk Alphys angering his superior officer again. "SO DON'T BOTHER HER."

" _Fine,_ fine if she's going to be all…not-Undyne about it…" There was an irritating, nasally whine in Alphys' voice that made it hard to concentrate. It was no wonder why nobody liked her.

Finally he resolved to do the proper sorting later when he could have some time to himself and just leave the ugly laboratory, when his thoughts were interrupted with a, "….What's wrong with Sans?"

"EH?" He turned to look around and finally noticed that his brother was breathing a little funny. His eye fixed on a used syringe that Alphys had carelessly left lying around the floor. "…WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

He didn't reply to that, shivering in place. –That was…odd. His brother tended to be annoyingly chatty.

"…SANS?"

Sans glanced up at the sound of his name but didn't look directly at Papyrus, appearing as though he was staring at something a few thousand miles off. "not today. not…today? please?"

"What is he talking about?"

"HOW THE HELL SHOULD I KNOW?" Papyrus took a few steps closer, putting his hands on his hips and raising his voice. "SANS, STOP STANDING AROUND, I DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE ANY LONGER THAN NECESSARY."

"i still hurt." It was a voice that Papyrus had never heard his brother use before. Thin, watery, as though he was about to collapse at any moment. "please just give—give me another day to get better. please?"

"ARE YOU TRYING TO EMBARRASS ME?"

"n-no—" It wasn't a response to the question, that was clear by the way his eye momentarily sputtered out, pupil shrinking. As though he'd been told something particularly horrible.

Lifting him up by the lapels of his jacket didn't seem to have any effect on him whatsoever, and neither did screaming, " _CUT IT OUT YOU FREAK."_

"p-please…don't…" Sans whimpered, his claws weakly scratching on the red gloves holding him aloft, "don't—don't hurt papyrus."

Papyrus blinked. He opened his mouth to retort but was, for the moment, at a loss for words. Sans' eyes were glazed over, somewhere far away. Somewhere terrifying.

And then he suddenly roared, shaking his brother back and forth, "YOU IDIOT I _AM_ PAPYRUS!"

He didn't do any good except cause Alphys to break out in ugly laughter. "Oh wow?.? Looks like he's broken, you'll have to take him in for repairs."

"SHUT UP." Papyrus gave her a good slap to stop the sound, setting Sans back down on the floor. "JUST FOCUS ON ACTUALLY _DOING SOME WORK_ FOR THE NEXT TIME YOUR REPORTS ARE DUE OR ELSE ASGORE HIMSELF IS GOING TO DROP BY."

"—He wouldn't. He's too busy?.?.?"

"HE WOULD IF YOU PISS HIM OFF." As much as he would love to terrify her more with the prospect of their king dropping by his attention really had to be elsewhere. Sans was refusing to walk properly so he had to be dragged by the hood of his jacket, tennis shoes stumbling over the various debris littered on the floor. When they were finally alone, mouth a grim line, Papyrus reached down to hold his brother's hand.

…It was so small—not too much smaller than his own but the difference was exaggerated by the gloves. …Perhaps he should start making Sans wear gloves. Right now those tiny fingers just looked fragile, like the rest of him.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that fact. In their childhood he had been so used to seeing him as a bully and a thug.

"SANS?"

The smaller skeleton merely attempted to pull himself away, breath coming out in rapid huffs.

Swiftly and without warning, Papyrus broke his metacarpals.

"aaaaa _aaaaAA_ _ **AAAAAGH JESUS FUCK**_." The reaction was instantaneous. Sans fizzled out of existence and appeared a few feet away, clutching his injured hand. The red, flaring pupil in his eye had returned, shivering wildly as it tried to take in the damage. Strings of curses wheezed past his teeth, most of them unintelligible. "the fuck—fuck— _fuck you_ _ **—**_ _you asshole_ _ **—jesus."**_

That was more like it. Papyrus couldn't stop the satisfied grin that made its way onto his face at that, watching his brother hop around in agony. At least he was responding to something _real._

"the _fuuuuuuck_ is the matter with you!?"

"THE 'FUCK' IS THE MATTER WITH _YOU_ BROTHER!?" Sans gnashed his teeth, waving his hand around as though that would stop the pain. "DO YOU EVEN REMEMBER WHAT YOU WERE JUST DOING? CARRYING ON AND WHEEZING?"

He probably didn't, especially the way he stared up at him, blinking.

Papyrus sighed, leaning down to grab Sans' sleeve. "OH NEVER MIND. HOLD STILL."

"-what are you gonna—what are you gonna do—"

"HEAL YOU, YOU IDIOT." His gloved fingers easily encircled his brother's wrists, pulling him in close enough to make the contact necessary for his healing magic.

"…why?"

"WHY WHAT?"

Sans huffed, eyes narrowing somewhat and looking somewhere off to the side. "you don't heal me all the other times you break things."

Papyrus rolled his eyes and sighed, as though this should be the most obvious thing in the world. "THOSE WERE PUNISHMENTS, THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO LAST LONGER. THIS WAS JUST TO GET YOU TO—SNAP OUT OF WHATEVER STUPID THING YOU WERE DOING. –NOW HOLD STILL."

The scowl on his face relaxed just a little bit as he mended Sans' hand. Healing magic was…calming. He didn't use it much for that reason but the stream of magic flowing from his fingers was hard to stay angry at. Even if the popping and cracking of the bones realigning made him feel the slightest bit uncomfortable.

The two of them were silent during the process. Sans had never healed Papyrus. But then with how weak he was, he probably wouldn't have been able to do much in the first place.

Things like this were why Papyrus had to take over being the older brother.

When it was over, he straightened up, gritting his teeth and putting the frown back on his face. "THERE. YOU HAVE NOTHING TO WHINE ABOUT NOW."

"…yeah." Sans rubbed his hand, not looking up for a moment. "…shit was i really that bad, boss?"

"YOU WERE SPEAKING NONSENSE. IT WAS VERY IRRITATING." He leaves out what he said about Papyrus. …He wasn't sure what to think of that himself. Whatever nightmare he had been caught up in sounded like it was based on something, but…he couldn't remember that ever happening. The only person hurting Papyrus in their childhood was Sans.

…That's what Papyrus told himself.

Even if he couldn't really remember all of it.

"WE ARE GOING HOME NOW." He briefly shook Sans by the jacket to get him to snap back to reality again, striding towards the dock where the riverperson stayed. "WE'VE SPENT ENOUGH TIME IN THIS POORLY PUT TOGETHER HELLHOLE."

"right. –uh, right boss." Sans jogged a little to keep up.

"AND THE NEXT TIME WE GO PICK UP REPORTS FROM ALPHYS YOU ARE GOING TO WAIT OUTSIDE."

"…thanks boss."

* * *

 **Author Notes** : I've decided to put a cap on this collection. 15 is a good number, I think, and I have lots of other things I want to write (What Do You Two Think) included. Two of the things I have planned involve Underfell-I'm not sure if they'll pan out but if they do, look forward to that. Thank you for those of you who have reviewed, and I hope you enjoyed the work.

For more content, I'm uploading this collection on Ao3-some of the pieces have had extensive revision and some have not. The last one I intend to post on there will have a looooot of additions, in case you're interested.


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